Judgment on Risa
by JMK758
Summary: When the granddaughter of a Risian Planetary Councilor is murdered the Risians blame the crew of the Enterprise-E and, by extension, the Federation and plan to close their borders. While Picard negotiates to prevent secession, Chief Investigator Gibbs and the Agents of the Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service strive to solve the murder.
1. Recalled

I own none of the characters or settings that appear herein, nor do I make any money from this work. The Copyrights are held by Paramount Pictures and Belisarius Productions and are used according to Fan Fiction permissions and understandings.  
>This story takes place aboard the Enterprise-E after 'Insurrection' yet prior to 'Nemesis', still in the first year of the new Starship's mission.<br>When I decided to take a break from my NCIS series to let a story percolate while I vacationed in the world of 'Star Trek; the Next Generation', I still couldn't leave alone the idea of Civilian Oversight and Enforcement over the Military. After all, the Federation itself is under the direction of a civilian political Council.  
>Having already done 'INCIS' and 'Shepherd of the Lost', stories of the Trek Mirror Universe's 'Imperial Navy Criminal Inquisition Squadron', I decided that in our Universe Security remains distinct from Investigation. I therefore introduce the concept of the SCIS, men and women of the 24th Century who are outside the military Chain of Command even as their 21st Century NCIS counterparts are.<br>Then I was left with establishing a 24th Century team. Having built up a significant following, I decided to take off for a vacation but to keep my readers vested.  
>I therefore decided that I'd pick up familiar characters and, <em>offering<em> _absolutely no explanation__ nor justification __whatsoever_, throw them unapologetically into the Sci-Fi world and drop our favorite Investigators bodily into the Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service.  
>So grab a cup of good cocoa, or Saurian brandy if such is to your taste, kick off your shoes, curl up in your comfy chair and come with me as we investigate the<p>

Judgment on Risa  
>By JMK758<br>Chapter One  
>Recalled<p>

Jean-Luc Picard settles back in his Ready Room chair aboard the Enterprise-E and takes a moment to relax and absorb both the scent of the Earl Grey tea upon his desk and the Orchestral selection filling the air. Though many months out of Space dock, he considers this year to still be the maiden voyage of the Sovereign Class Starship and enjoys the few moments of 'down time', though as Captain he never has to admit it.

He occasionally considers the comparisons between the Galaxy Class Enterprise-D, which he'd commanded for 8 years and the 'newer model' launched this year, 2372. The ubiquitous thrum of the engines, so distant in the star drive section yet felt under his fingertips on the desk, adds its own depth to the string section of the Antillies Grand Orchestra's rendition of Salmulcho's Eleventh Symphony, Second Movement.

The Attention chirrup from his desk doesn't belong, yet the soft sound grasps his attention as effectively as an explosion would.

/Bridge to Captain Picard,/ Commander Worf's basso profundo voice can sometimes boom through the intercom even when, as now, he's speaking in a normal conversational tone.

"Computer, halt playback. Yes, Commander?" Picard's own voice is as crisp in the sudden silence as though he'd been awaiting his Security Chief's call.

/Communication from Starfleet Command on Secure Channel, Admiral Nakamura./

He's no longer at ease and straightens in his chair. "I'll take it here."

The Enterprise has recently come off several days of long anticipated and greatly relished Shore Leave and is now en route to Ariolo III. At warp five, it will take eight more days to reach that planet, except that he's certain his plans - and the ship - are about to either be accelerated or to veer sharply from the course he'd set.

At the touch of a button the monitor rises from the grey bordered red desktop before him and lights with the pleasantly round Asian features of Admiral Tujiro Nakamura. His receding black hairline has retreated another two centimeters since Picard had last hosted him. Then Nakamura had been a Vice Admiral and for an instant Picard flashes back to Captain Philipa Louvois, then-Commander Bruce Maddox and the 'Battle of Starbase 173'. Command hasn't been kind, judging by how the decade has accumulated on Tujiro's face.

"Yes, Admiral, what may I do for you?"

/Captain, I understand Enterprise has recently completed four days R&R on Risa./

"That's correct, Admiral, in their Capital, Cintara. We left there six days ago."

/We're sending you back./

x

Picard's attention jumps another notch, but years of practice help him keep it from his expression. Starfleet Command doesn't send a Starship back on Shore Leave as though it were an incomplete assignment. A Commander generally makes requests for Leave and is so often told 'not at this time' that the astute Officer initiates the requests for R&R a month before his crew shows signs of needing it. Furthermore, he's never known an Admiral to look so grim when granting such Leave.

"What has happened, Admiral?"

/An incident occurred during your visit which was brought to Command's attention after you departed. Your SCIS Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy is presently receiving orders from her Command. She will brief you. You will not divulge the details to your crew, and even your Command Officers are to be informed on a Need-to-Know basis./

"This sounds particularly..." he hunts for a word that can cover these extraordinary events, "disturbing."

/When you hear the details, you'll appreciate this somewhat covert method. The Federation Council is determined that the matter not be prematurely disclosed, nor is attention to be drawn. It is for this reason that your SAS is also receiving her communication on a secure channel./

"I understand, Admiral."

He dislikes lying to superiors and hopes the man will be more forthcoming.

/An Investigation team, headed by Chief Investigator Leroy Gibbs, is on its way in from Delta III aboard the SCIS Service Ship Bonaventure and will rendezvous with you at 1930 hours. You will render all possible assistance to him and his team./

Picard would do so anyway, but the secretive nature of this order is unsettling. "Admiral, may I know the _nature _of this Investigation?"

/I will only say that the Risians are considering seceding from the Federation./

x

Picard hides his surprise behind a careful mask. "That would be very unfortunate."

/You have a gift for understatement, Jean Luc. In the history of the Federation there have been only three member worlds that chose to secede and two of them eventually reunited with us. Risa, though not formally a member of the Federation but an Associate world, is still highly valued as an essential resource to Fleet morale./

They've experienced several days of Risian hospitality; something Picard would regret losing for all the Federation worlds. He's already been told this issue was sparked during their layover and he fights the urge to ask for more information, for Nakamura has already told him he won't give him more. Secure channels have been known to be less than secure. But if any member of his crew had knowledge of this, or precipitated the situation, he'd expect that person to have come forth.

Therefore, he's not surprised to hear Nakamura conclude with /You now know more than I am advised to tell you. Your SAS will reveal the details./ Although his tone is mild, the message is clear: 'Ask me no further questions.'

"Understood, Admiral."

x

It's very unusual to go into such a situation blind, and equally unusual for Tujiro Nakamura, whom he's known since the man was a Lieutenant and he'd been a raw Crewman, to be so reticent, particularly about a mission that holds such serious potential consequences for the Federation. What could have happened at the vacation spot of the galaxy to require a Starship and Special Investigators?

Through his years in command of Enterprise, SCIS had been a very low-key adjunct to ship operations. He prides himself, with excellent reason, on having the best crew in Starfleet and would enjoy maintaining Special Agent Paula Cassidy as the most bored member of his crew.

Now he must wait for the 1930 rendezvous when several Agents will board and take over.

/Keep the peace, Captain. Nakamura out./

x

When the screen goes to the laurel-leafed UFP star pattern upon the black background, Picard leaves the monitor up rather than lowering it down into the red desktop, anticipating he'll need it again as he pauses to consider the ramifications of this order and of that disquieting admonition.

The Risians are renowned throughout space for their hospitality. The natural weather on Risa is abysmal; chaotic storms ravage that world throughout its 21.3 Federation Standard hour days, causing gale force winds, constant rain that makes sunlight virtually unknown as it ranges from severe to torrential with lightning bolts that charge the air hundreds of times per hour while seismic disruptions produce quakes that prevent the building of any permanent structures.

Risa is the most unlikely candidate for establishing anything, let alone a colony and much less so a planet wide equatorial resort legendary throughout the galaxy. Yet hundreds of years ago the fore-bearers of the Risians, an unnamed race shrouded in cultural mystery, did exactly that.

They contained this planetary chaos, held it in check by a vast network of Weather Management and Seismic Regulator systems and established a lush, tropical environment throughout the equatorial region. Along that wide band a sunny, tropical environment, with temperatures in the 24 to 30 degrees Celsius range, or 75 to 80 on the Fahrenheit scale, makes the planet a virtual paradise for weary, Starship-bound travelers.

The machines, established long before the to-be-colonized area of the planet stabilized, were far in advance of the science on any Federation world at the time of their installation. The first inhabitants had settled a newly created paradise before losing contact with their home. For hundreds of years, no outsider has learned of the Risians' planet of origin, and for most travelers today it is an academic but not particularly pressing mystery.

Indeed, it's what Risa has become, not who originally chose to colonize it; and their descendants are particularly reticent to reveal who their ancestors were of why they undertook this Herculean task, that is of interest to the galaxy. And for Picard, it'll be the major focus of his life for the next few days.

x

The population of Risa, spread throughout the equator, is incapable of self-sufficiency. After a short few decades out of touch with their home world, their colony-cum-home had used up all the natural resources of their otherwise atmospherically chaotic, tectonically unstable and formidable world.

Everything they need to survive must now be imported. Without foreign trade, and they might ultimately have fallen under the mercy of their suppliers if not for the regulating forces of the United Federation of Planets, their choices would have been to depart or starve.

However, the inhabitants long ago hit upon an inspired solution. In return for supplies of every imaginable type, the population provides a hospitable, receptive environment for any and all visitors. The planet's administration and the lifestyles of its people are the ultimate in laissez-faire, from the French to 'let things alone'. The general philosophy of the people is 'all that we have is yours', and you are free to use their planet with the expectation that you will come, stay and depart in peace.

The 'all that we have is yours', though often considered in terms of food and drink and very frequently taken as and applied to the carnal, is very literally true though rarely accurately considered, for there is nothing in the inhabited portions of Risa that has not come from somewhere else.

Nonetheless, the open hospitality of the Risian people is so legendary and highly prized that aggression against them is unthinkable. An aggressor would secure the enmity of the entire Alpha Quadrant.

x

But now, within a very few days of Enterprise's visit, something has happened that has the Risians ready to turn off that fabled hospitality, something that requires not just a Federation Starship but the resources of Federation and Starfleet's Internal Affairs; independent Investigators from a branch of the Federation over which Starfleet exercises absolutely no control.

Picard reaches out, touches the intercom button on his desk. The computer will hear his first words and channel the message to its intended recipient with so little time lag as to be virtually instantaneous. "Picard to SAS Cassidy."

/Yes, Captain?/ the woman's voice responds immediately. Where he'd meant to give the impression earlier that he'd been awaiting Worf's call, he's sure in this case it's true.

"Join me in my Ready Room."

/I'm already on my way up, sir./

x

Picard picks up his now cool china cup and saucer, turns half right in his chair and places them and the unused remnant upon the Replicator shelf. A moment later they dematerialize. "Tea, Earl Grey, hot." He removes the new china cup and saucer, sets them on his desk and then takes a sip of the invigorating liquid, not at all missing the days when he had to cross his old Ready Room. He takes another sip, anticipating he'll need the drink for the coming meeting.

Less than a minute after the brief conversation the annunciation chirrup at the grey door before him sounds. "Come."

The sliding door admits someone Picard has long considered an anomaly among his crew. The blonde woman's uniform is not like Starfleet's space black with gray shoulders and upper chest and back, neither does it include the Division colored tunic with wrist piping nor rank pips.

This uniform is in both halves blue from boots to high collar, and the gold emblem above her left breast is not Starfleet's silver arrowhead and gold band. Rather it is a gold shield form depicting the upper half of a bald eagle with brown wings downward above the Federation's black and silver laurel-leafed star field. The eagle's wings extend midway down the Federation emblem, giving an impression of protective cover.

In addition to the badge she also has, on the right side of her high collar where rank pips would be, the silver profile of a Constitution Class Starship, which had comprised most of the fleet at the time the uniform was established. He supposes the antiquated design to be a good standard for those Agents whose assignments are so widely variable. The second Enterprise, NCC-1701 under Captains April, Pike and Kirk, had been of that Class.

Though the Organization this woman represents is the _Starfleet _Criminal Investigation Service, its officers are neither _of_ Starfleet nor do they follow the typical Command ranks. Since they are tied neither to Starfleet nor its Security branch, the shipboard or Starbase-assigned Agents answer only to the Federation Council. They are therefore the Investigative branch of the most extensive legal authority of the Federation.

They're a special breed of Civilian, empowered by the Federation Charter to give even the Commanding Admiral orders without the need to take orders from anyone save the Council.

x

As Starfleet answers to the civilian powers of the Federation's member worlds, the SCIS is one aspect of the 'checks and balances' woven through the Federation tapestry.

Where SCIS and Starfleet Security could theoretically butt heads in a number of areas, this doesn't happen because of the distinctions between the branches. Starfleet is the Exploratory arm of the Federation, not strictly a military one, and in support it has two hands; a Protective one and an Investigative one. The first is charged with stopping crime before it happens, the latter with determining what happened if the front line fails. But while Security is part of Starfleet's Chain of Command, the SCIS is not.

Therefore, while Picard could order Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy to do anything he chose, it's up to SAS Cassidy to decide whether or not it's appropriate and legal for her to do it. Her orders come through the civilian chain which extends from the individual Agent right to the halls of the Federation's highest Authority.

A wise SAS therefore minimizes friction as much as possible by letting Security handle any matter that doesn't constitute Criminal activity to be investigated and turned over to JAG for prosecution, not that Picard considers it likely that criminal activity would take place anywhere aboard Enterprise-E. But should it happen, Cassidy rather than Security would investigate.

If Picard doesn't like the direction the Investigation is going and decides to squash evidence or manipulate the investigation, turn it aside or do anything outside the Law, he could order her to do so and Cassidy would quite politely advise him to leap out of an airlock.

"Have a seat, Agent Cassidy."

She does so, caution alight in her eyes. Picard has known the 37 year old woman since she transferred aboard the Enterprise-D almost 3 years ago, and subsequently to Enterprise-E, finding her competent yet unassuming in her dealings with him unless her job demanded otherwise. She's never pushed her weight with him, preferring a low-key approach to getting the job done.

This situation is not low key.

x

Without attempting preamble, she says "I assume Starfleet Command has told you about the trouble on Risa."

Picard allows the tiniest portion of his annoyance to slip through. "Admiral Nakamura told me virtually nothing, saying only that you'll give me the details. All I know is that an 'incident' occurred before or immediately after we left six days ago that has the Risians ready to consider severing ties with the Federation."

Cassidy is quite evidently taken aback. "Captain, that's not exactly how I received it, but apparently the incident occurred _while_ we were there but was discovered after we left. I'm ordered to discuss the case only with you and those few you clear. Chief Investigator Leroy Jethro Gibbs and his Team will arrive on the Service Ship Bonaventure from their headquarters on Delta III and they'll run the Investigation."

"Why is an outside team coming in?" He hadn't gotten enough of an answer from the Admiral, but Cassidy should be more forthcoming. The last time they'd consulted the woman had presented her Threat Assessment, an exceptionally simple matter where Risa is concerned, but in three years he has never had cause to question her competence in solving problems within her sphere. She'd been on the planet with the first Leave-takers until the last had returned.

"The Risians don't want this investigated by Starfleet. It took more than two days of negotiations to get them to agree to an independent Investigation. They'll make their decision about severing Diplomatic ties either with individual planets or the Federation as a whole based heavily upon the extent of their trust in the impartiality of our Investigation and on our findings."

"Individual worlds?" This is growing more interesting - or outrageous - by the moment.

"Enterprise is made up of crew from fourteen different planets. They may only ban the inhabitants of one, several selected ones, or all. Another alternative being considered is secession from the Federation."

"What are you and your people investigating?"

"Murder."


	2. Dramatis Personae

Chapter Two  
>Dramatis Personae<p>

Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy of the Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service couldn't have shocked Jean-Luc Picard more had she leaned across his desk and slapped him.

"Explain."

"Sir, as I'm sure you can appreciate I don't as yet have all the details. Chief Special Agent Gibbs and his team have them and I'll be in touch with him immediately after this–" She halts at Picard's upraised hand.

A brief communication with the bridge results in Lieutenant Worf transmitting a call to the distant Service Ship Bonaventure and Commander William Riker on his way into the Ready room. It takes Picard less than a minute to bring his First Officer up to date with such as he has, then he directs Cassidy to continue.

"Gentlemen, less than two hours after Enterprise departed Risa, one of its citizens was found dead. The location of the victim was such that it couldn't be easily determined who had killed her, but as you recall Enterprise was the only ship using facilities in that area at that time. There were two other ships in orbit, but the facilities those crews used were thousands of miles distant. All three ships had maintained a roughly 120 degree range from one another."

"Yes," Riker says, "a Belorian freighter and a Ktarian Scout Ship." He can't help but recall the last time, years ago, when he'd dealt with a Ktarian on Risa, the duplicitous Etana Jol and her nefarious 'game'. The less remembered about that debacle the better.

"Yes, sir. Both kept their distances and never did enter an orbital position where a transporter lock could be established to the site where the victim was found. The Risians are satisfied the murderer came from Enterprise."

"I'm not," Picard declares. It's too long a stretch to conclude that the supposed murderer could come solely from his crew. In addition to those potential suspects already on the planet, he's known uses of the transporter that required barely line-of-sight beaming. He himself had once beamed a person aboard the Stargazer who was only marginally accessible on the planet's horizon.

x

"I've been given no information on how the victim was killed, which is quite unusual for the ship's SAS."

"Why have you been left out?" Riker, seated beside her, asks. He suspects he knows the answer and Cassidy confirms that belief.

"Because I'm assigned to Enterprise, _I'm_ not excluded as a suspect. I'm human, from Earth. I was on the planet for the duration and I provided a Threat Assessment to the Captain before the first crew members beamed down. But this is Risa we're talking about; I didn't find much for the crew to be threatened by. It's not as though the Romulans or Orions have a foothold there, nor were there any notable dangers.

"Normally, when determining Threats, I have tangible things I can compile to present to the Captain; areas the crew should avoid or which should be off-limits, a list of known taboos, that sort of thing. Risa, as usual, presented visitors no restrictions provided they remain in the populated Tropical and Temperate Zones above and below the equator. They were typically easy to evaluate as not being a threat. Now they say _we_ were the threat to _them_ and they're mad as hell about it."

/Bridge to Captain Picard,/ Worf's voice calls from the desktop.

"Go ahead, Commander."

/I have Chief Investigator Gibbs of SCIS Team H-Alpha 7 aboard the Service Ship Bonaventure./

"On screen here, Lieutenant."

x

The monitor is still raised from its recessed compartment on the gray bordered red desktop and the man whose face appears there, only visible to the Captain, is about Picard's age with close-cropped gray hair and the look of eagles in his blue eyes. His square face shows the aspect of someone ready to batter through all obstacles to uncover the hard answers. His blue uniform is distinguished from Cassidy's solely by the gold five pointed star rather than Starfleet's rank pips on his high collar's right side./Captain Picard? Leroy Jethro Gibbs./

"Chief, what can you tell me about this situation on Risa?"

/Not a lot, and not because I don't want to. Information is filtering out of Risa like coffee wet by an eyedropper. I can tell you that the deceased is the granddaughter of Third Planetary Councilor Makyao Kelbron. Have you ever met him?/

"No, I haven't."

/He's always favored maintaining the status quo with the Federation, a much different position from the Second Counselor Hamaryu Pragakar, who wants Risa to have a much stronger presence on the Federation Council. He's considered a moderate in the Planetary Council, a triumvirate of elected Officers who serve for life./

"What's the political situation?"

/So far as I understand it Kelbron's a moderate as far as the UFP is concerned, Pragakar can be considered more of a challenge because he's the one pushing for secession, while the First Counselor Varekh Sumnar is not only the deciding vote but doesn't seem to be taking a side in this issue./

"What support does Pragakar have toward secession?"

/That's unclear, even though we have more information on the politics than we do on the murder. Pragakar favors Risa having more influence in the Federation, hard to do when you're a Neutral Associate world without a formal Representative on the Council, and that's further complicated by the fact that they're not native to their planet. They never applied for formal Membership and it's looking like they may withdraw from Associate status, or just close their borders to some or all of us./

This is even more outrageous but the question it hinges on is "What about the murder?"

x

/We don't have much, Skipper. Edaniya Kelbron's body was found in her home less than two hours after Enterprise left orbit. Now the Risian level of Forensic Science isn't up to par with their coffee making, but after getting nowhere themselves they've finally agreed to hold execution of the decision on severing ties until my team identifies the killer./

"And when you do?" Picard doesn't really need an answer to this; he's known it throughout his career, but it does serve to confirm that he and SCIS are on the same page.

/You know how it'll play, Skipper. He might be a Federation citizen subject to Federation law, but the crime took place on their soil, so if they want to try your crew member that's their call and we have to go along with it. Then again, I don't know their laws; I don't even know if they _have_ laws covering murder. I have a Specialist in Exo-Jurisprudence but I don't envy her working in a vacuum without blowing her lungs out. I can't predict she can get the suspect tried in a Federation Court, but good as she is I'd say don't get your hopes up./

"Have you any insights?"

/Last time I was there was two years ago and I left my badge in the hotel. The Federation doesn't exercise jurisdiction over the planet; Risa is completely neutral and anyone who comes is welcomed as a guest. Now they consider one of your crew to have abused the privilege. It took days to get permission to send a non-Starfleet team. We'll be subject to their laws, which my XJ is still compiling, and to one very angry Planetary Councilor./

To this there are no more answers and Picard won't waste time with empty questions. "We'll rendezvous 1930 and then I want to accelerate, have us there by planetary dawn over the city." At Warp 9, they can make the 6 day trip back within that limit.

Gibbs shakes his head. /Too soon. I want to meet with your people and particularly anyone who was with the woman during your stay. We'll be a day from Risa when we rendezvous. I know you're anxious to exonerate your crew, but I have no intention of rushing./

Picard doesn't like this at all, particularly not when his commands are overridden in front of witnesses, but SCIS' authority comes from the Federation Council, so overridden they are. "Very well."

/We'll see you in a few hours. There'll be eight of us./

x

When the channel is closed, Gibbs' face being replaced by the ubiquitous Federation logo, Cassidy looks quite uncomfortable. She and Riker hadn't seen the man, but they'd heard all the grim news. Picard presses the button to lower the screen into the desktop and looks to Cassidy, expecting she has good reason for her discomfort.

"Captain, to pursue my Investigation I'll need access to not only the Official Logs of the crew and passengers, but their Personal Logs as well."

Picard doesn't need to ask his First Officer's opinion on this; it's as plain as his beard and reflects his own. "I'm not happy about giving you access to Personal Logs."

"Believe me, Captain, under other circumstances I wouldn't ask."

"No," Riker says, "you'd go in and access them anyway."

"No, Commander, I _wouldn't_," she says, hiding none of her offense at the barb. "The law is very specific: I need authorization to do this, and while the simplest way is to obtain the Captain's permission, there are several ways of going over his head. I prefer not to. Of course, once he's aboard, Chief Gibbs is going to want those Logs and–" She halts again at Picard's upraised hand.

"Computer, access is granted to Special Agent Shipboard Cassidy to all Personal Logs relating to the planet Risa and to actions related thereto, authorization Picard-One-Alpha-Seven-Blue."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Perhaps you'd best get on that. More than a thousand people went to Risa."

She knows a curt dismissal when she hears it. "Yes, sir."

x

After Cassidy leaves, Riker is still unhappy. "I don't think I'd have given in so readily."

"I don't want to get an order from the Federation Council to open those records plus who knows what else in addition." He opens the intercom again. "Mister Data?"

/Yes, Captain?/ the android replies immediately.

"Reverse course, take us back to Risa, warp seven. Coordinate with the Bonaventure for the new Rendezvous. After we take on passengers, I want to enter orbit over Cintara at 0800."

/Yes, sir./

"Compile information on SCIS Investigative team H-Alpha 7 and brief me when ready. I want to know who we're dealing with. Also, compile all Risian laws that apply to violence conducted by aliens upon Risian citizens, with particular interest in the discretionary powers of Planetary Councilors."

/Yes, sir./

Picard is confident, in handing over this formidable list of duties, that they will be accomplished expertly and with dispatch. He need not concern himself with the ship's course or speed until he sees the Enterprise assume standard orbit around Risa at 0800 tomorrow. By then, he'll know all he needs to know about the men and women who'll take over this mission.

He sees his own duties over the next few days as being diplomatic, not that he'd ever expected a diplomatic mission to the primary rest stop in the Federation.

"Shall I brief the Command Staff?" Riker brings him out of his brief reverie.

"No. Conference with SCIS as soon as we rendezvous. After Data's report have Worf start an Investigation into the actions of our crew during their Shore Leave. I'll damned if I'll have a group of outsiders investigate my people and accuse one of them of murder."

xx

Two minutes later Commander Data, who had needed only forty seven seconds to compile the requested information and the rest to fulfill his other orders, requests permission to enter. After taking the proffered seat, the android begins a succinct summary for his Captain and Commander.

"Chief Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs heads SCIS Team H-Alpha 7, the H designating human or humanoid members. He began his military career as a MACO, rising to the rank of Gunnery Sergeant until a Medical Discharge as a result of wounds received in action at the Battle of Calais II nineteen years ago. He applied to SCIS following his recovery. His Service Record since then is most impressive. On Stardate 40119–"

"Never mind. Go on." The android could, and would if not halted, relate the man's entire history.

"His second in command is Deputy Chief Anthony DiNozzo of Alpha Centauri. He transferred to SCIS from the AlphaCent Civilian Protective Forces after nine years of service. He is considered an especially skilled Investigator, particularly in human / non-human interaction.

"Next is Doctor Timothy McGee of Earth, who specialized in Computer Forensics and Information Technology Security. A Fellow of the Daystrom Institute, he rose to the rank of Doctor of Computer Sciences before resigning his post because he 'wanted to see the universe'.

"Next is Ziva David of Proxima Vega, who since the age of nineteen has served as a Guardian of the Prefect and the Royal Family. She has a record of 284 confirmed kills."

"Kills?"

"Apparently she is a most proficient Guardian, sir."

"Indeed. And now she's a Special Agent?"

"In addition to being an Investigator, she has made a specialty of Protection. Her record shows she heads Protective Details and under her direction no guarded person has been lost."

"So she gave up the Royal Family for Commoners?" Riker teases, wondering if Data will rise to the bait.

"She is still a Guardian of the Royal Family, sir, but her ascension through their hierarchy was so prodigious that it was decided she needed broader skills, so she was attached to the SCIS as they are outside the Starfleet military chain of command."

Neither man needs this translated. She became so good at her job, and got so close to the Royal Family, that someone decided to have her do her job from a distance.

x

"Michelle Lee Palmer hails from Beta Aquilae II's New Chin colony established by the Chinese Nation in 2169. She is a specialist in Exo-Jurisprudence and taught at Starfleet Academy for 4 years. She is married to the H-Alpha 7's Deputy Medical Examiner Doctor James Palmer of Earth who, together with Medical Examiner Doctor Donald Mallard, also of Earth, will conduct the autopsy.

"They will have to work within the confines of Risian custom, observances and procedure, in which Doctor Mallard is versed."

"I've never been comfortable," Riker says, "with introducing religious observances into things like autopsies. It could taint the results."

"Yes, Commander. But while little is known of Risian Spiritual beliefs, considering the current political and social climate it might be prudent–"

"Yes," Riker says shortly.

x

Data returns to the report as though the interruption had never happened. To the android, whose emotion chip is turned off, there's no content at all. "The final member of the Team is Doctor Abigail Sciuto of Epsilon Hydra VII, also a former member of the Daystrom Institute. She holds five somewhat disparate Doctorates and is reportedly studying toward a Doctorate in Omniology."

Picard has heard of only two Holders of this distinction. "The study of Everything?" He looks forward to hearing if she can attain that so-rare rating.

"Yes, sir. She too has established an impressive Academic background, is a Recipient of the Zee-Magnees Prize, and has a Hoffman-Prinegold Intelligence Scale rating of 397."

"Impressive indeed."

"Yes, sir. Your own rating is on–"

"That will be all, Mr. Data." He doesn't care for Riker's incipient smile.

"Yes, sir."


	3. Investigating the Allies

Chapter Three  
>Investigating the Allies<p>

Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, head of Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service's H-Alpha 7 team, leans back from his desk in his office on the main or lower deck starboard, just behind the bridge of the SCIS' Service Ship Bonaventure. He closes his eyes, the better to concentrate upon the details of this case and the just reviewed histories of the principle officers of the Starship Enterprise-E.

Jean-Luc Picard has what is described in the initial Summary as an 'Exemplary' record, yet the details expose a somewhat more checkered career. He has been charged _nine _times with Violations of the Prime Directive, which Gibbs is inclined to view as significant, if not being a record for Starship Commanders - at least those not relieved and imprisoned.

Furthermore, after having been captured and assimilated by the Borg, he'd become the notorious 'Locutus', personally responsible for the destruction of 39 ships at the battle of Wolf 359.

Years later, as recently as 2373 when the Enterprise, E this time, was ordered to withhold on the Neutral Zone when a Borg cube attacked Earth, he chose to disregard those orders. Actually, on that occasion his action led not only to the destruction of the cube but the thwarting of the Borg plan to jump back in time and assimilate Earth in the year 2063, a plan which would thereby have wiped out all subsequent humanity and the Federation as well.

Gibbs read on with some interest that, despite this dramatic success, Picard managed to aggravate a number of high ranking and critically placed Officers.

He wonders if the Borg are capable of aggravation.

The next entry was even more interesting. Recently Picard led a cell of Enterprise officers in what was declared a Mutiny against a Starfleet Admiral, so termed by said Admiral, the late Matthew Dougherty. Apparently Picard and _his entire Command crew_ disobeyed direct Command orders, an act which led to the death of that Admiral.

Though the actions of Picard and his officers were ultimately born out at their Hearings as correct and justified, Gibbs feels that someone in Starfleet Command has an imaginative interpretation of the word 'exemplary'.

x

Commander William T. Riker cannot be held personally responsible for the actions of a transporter-accident manifestation, a pseudo-twin, one Thomas Riker who committed Treason in assisting the illegal activities of the rebellious Marquis.

William Riker, however, was _also_ charged with Treasonin the matter of several pirates and alleged Vulcan artifacts.

There are, however, interesting notations in his record of his having been given 'godlike' powers by the rogue entity known as Q and also of standing trial for _Murder,_ this of a Federation-employed scientist, one Doctor Nel Apgar. Gibbs can see where the powers of the Q might be helpful in dealing with those charges.

Riker, Gibbs notes, has been four times offered promotion to Captain and has four times declined. On the most recent occasion that decision had been born out as a good one, for less than a day after he would have taken Command of the USS Melbourne it had been destroyed by the Borg - in the same conflict where Picard had been lost to the Borg to become Locutus and Riker had become Captain anyhow.

He then resigned said Commission when Picard was rescued.

Gibbs doesn't believe he's ever met a five time almost-Captain.

x

Commander Data, the ship's Second Officer, described as a sentient android holding a Starfleet Commission was, interestingly enough, influenced by a pseudo-brother named Lore into betraying his crew and, by extension, Starfleet.

Charges advanced, then dropped by Command after a somewhat cursory Investigation by then SAS Anthony Vico, include Treason and Assault on _several _fellow officers until it became known that he was operating under 'faulty programming' imposed by Lore. On another occasion he was accused of hijacking the Enterprise-D, apparently while in search of his Creator, a search which led to the death of said Creator at the hands of Lore.

What is it with pseudo-brothers?

x

And this is the triumvirate in command of the Federation's Flagship, and the principals involved in an Investigation into an alleged murder having interplanetary, perhaps Federation-wide ramifications?

He would have opposed his orders to work with this group if he'd read this report during the negotiations with the Risians. As it is, he's inclined to limit access to information by the Senior Officers to zero.

x

Commander Worf, the Chief of Security, was 'discommended' by the Klingon Empire because of his father's alleged clandestine cooperation with the Romulan Empire, a betrayal that resulted in the destruction of a Klingon colony and the deaths of some 7,000 of their people. It was a charge Worf did not challenge for several years until resigning his Commission as a Starfleet officer to participate in the Klingon Civil War. When the war, which was supported by the Romulan Star Empire, ended he (how did he manage this?) resumed his Commission and duties.

He also served for several years on Deep Space 9 following the destruction of the Enterprise-D, and remained there until being appointed Federation Ambassador to Qo'noS. He subsequently resigned that appointment, returned to DS9, joined the Enterprise-E and has remained there since the Borg Time Invasion.

Is this an Officer with no Career Plan?

x

Chief Engineer Commander Geordi LaForge attempted to assassinate a Klingon Planetary Governor, though the Investigative Report of SAS Carstairs exonerates him and other documentation backs that up when clues to the plot were discovered due to a flaw in his visual acuity device, a device he wore up until the encounter with the Ba'ku on Briar I. The Romulans were able to influence him to attempt to murder the Klingon Governor, all under the instigation of a Klingon traitor, their own Ambassador, who was allied with said Romulans.

It's also noted that that same device allowed other Klingons to take advantage of a flaw in the Galaxy Class Starship's design, resulting in the destruction of the Enterprise-D.

It's well the man got rid of that Visor.

x

Commander Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer, had headed Starfleet Medical for a year before voluntarily returning to Enterprise-D, a significant self-demotion.

Does anyone on that ship have a rational Career Path?

Crusher stood charges for Disobeying an Order, having knowingly violated a cultural prohibition against performing an autopsy, this upon a Ferengi scientist, for which she was due to be Court Martialed.

She later participated, with other members of the Command crew, in the aforementioned Mutiny at Briar I but, like the others, managed to evade charges.

Did Riker give back all of those Q powers?

x

Former Crewman Wesley Crusher, the CMO's son and not presently aboard Enterprise-E - whereabouts officially unknown - did, as a civilian, _hijack _the Enterprise-D early in its mission and allegedly jeopardized over a thousand lives when he diverted operational control of the ship to the Engineering section and then isolated said section. Interestingly enough, he was credited in the Captain's official Log with having contributed to _saving_ the ship rather than to having jeopardized it in the first place.

In a later incident said Wesley Crusher violated the law on planet Rubicun III, the home of the Edo and their still-mysterious spacefaring 'god', which would have resulted in a violation of the Prime Directive save for Picard's negotiation skills.

He was subsequently Tried at Starfleet Academy for Violations that resulted in the death of Cadet Joshua Albert. The penalty of Expulsion was later reduced to the Cancellation of his final year Academic Credits.

The final notation in the young man's file indicates he is on an undefined multi-dimensional Sojourn under the mentorship of a being from Tau Alpha C loosely designated the 'Traveler', in an effort to develop latent psionic powers.

Apparently there is, or was after he cleaned up his act, someone on that ship with a somewhat defined path, though he's not certain how 'quasi-super being' translates as a Starfleet career choice.

x

Granted that in each case the facts and circumstances, and the investigations of the various SAS', ultimately supported, and in all cases exonerated these officers, yet Gibbs cannot recall any other ship on which a collection of Command Officers combine to amass such a staggering number of Violations, Offenses and Criminal Charges.

At the very least, this crew should have been disbanded years ago.

x

At a brief signal from the door annunciator he opens his eyes and sits forward. "Come." The door before him slides aside and three women and four men enter, all clad in the SCIS blue uniform with gold badges of the upper halves of brown bald eagles, wings down protectively on each side of the silver and black Federation laurel star field.

Anthony DiNozzo, his Deputy Chief Investigator, speaks for them. "1700 briefing, boss."

x

Since the briefing is to be held here rather than in the upper level Conference Room, which on other Service Ships would be the eighth crew quarters save for the married Palmers, Gibbs has gone far enough this time as to place enough extra chairs in his office for the three women before the wide desk. But this will not be a lengthy meeting. In the years the team has worked together there never has been one.

In fact, the consensus among all but the Chief is that sometimes the imparting of necessary information could be a little longer - at least long enough this time to allow the ladies to get comfortable in their chairs.

Their badged blue uniforms are distinguished only by the silver insignia on the right sides of their high collars where Starfleet puts rank pips, a silver star for DiNozzo reflecting his own gold while in the chairs before him Michelle wears at her collar a silver open book with antiquated fountain pen, Abby a molecular emblem of dots connected by lines while Ziva sports a silver shield. McGee's emblem is the Duotronic symbol while Mallard and his associate Palmer wear silver Caduceus.

In addition each wears, clipped to waistbands, their in-flight field generators, 7 cm diameter silver disks with red button in their centers.

The men and women each know, based upon their respective specialties, much though not all of what will be covered here. The purpose of this briefing, as is usual, is to be certain the agents each have exactly the same (presently incomplete) information before the Investigation officially begins aboard Enterprise.

x

"You're to consider everyone aboard that ship a suspect," Gibbs directs without preamble.

"Everyone?"

"Do I stutter, DiNozzo? Everyone from the Captain down to the guy who washes the tables in the crew lounge."

"Gonna make it a little hard to get information, boss."

"The Risians didn't even want us investigating this; we're human, but they had to back down somewhere or _no one_ could do it. Even our SAS Paula Cassidy can't leave the Enterprise. If they're right, someone on Enterprise-E killed that woman and we're starting out with our usual dearth of information." He glances at the oldest of his team standing on his far right behind Ziva. "Ducky, do we know yet _how _it was done?"

"Sadly, no," Dr. Donald Mallard says, not needing to even glance at his Deputy beside him. "Risa being a Resort Colony with corresponding mentality, Forensic Science, particularly in the field of Pathology, is virtually non-existent. I shall have to commence my Investigation when I arrive."

x

"Bet Captain Picard's pissed over this," DiNozzo concludes. "The Risians say one of his people committed murder, I'm surprised he's waiting for us."

"He's not. He changed course back to Risa." He won't mention this was done within moments of what he'd taken to be an agreement. He'd been contacted by the ship's Second Officer, who had presented the change as a fait accompli. And to the android it was; his Captain had ordered the change and it was his responsibility to make it so.

Gibbs hands a thin, rectangular isolinear chip to McGee, who serves as the ship's Navigator and Helmsman. "Here's their new course and speed. Will this be a problem?"

There are two elastic straps on their uniforms, hip high on each side, and McGee slips out from his left side his miniature PADD, less than one quarter the size of Starfleet standard, puts the chip into a slot and turns it on. "No," he says after a few moments study. "I'll input the new coordinates into the Navicomputer when I get forward, but I can even hold us to the original 1930 rendezvous time."

Gibbs smiles. "1800." Petty, granted, but deserved. This will have them aboard Enterprise within the hour. "The Risians had originally banned Picard and his crew from the planet, but the Federation Council managed to get him, First Officer Riker, Second Officer Data, CMO Crusher and CSO Worf exempted. No one else."

"We going to duplicate effort?" DiNozzo asks.

"Until I say we're not. This is our case; I'll let Picard's crew see what they can find while we supervise."

"Must stick in his claw."

Gibbs doesn't care. "Abby, Scientific development?"

x

The woman's jet black hair frames a pale face that's seen too many laboratories and too few planets' suns. "If the history I've got is right, and information about their early days is only slightly better than their Forensic sciences, there hasn't _been _any scientific development. Oh, their original level of technology was incredible; imagine weather and seismic stabilization systems and terraforming methods that can not only convert but _control_ most of a planet hundreds of years ago - but they've made little to no progress beyond that point. They've sacrificed development because they have no natural resources, so someone hit on the bright idea of taking the trade of services for goods to almost _ridiculous _extremes."

"So their threat to break with the Federation–"

"Is empty rhetoric. It'll hurt them way more than it will anyone else."

"So why do it?" DiNozzo asks. "I mean, if they can't solve this murder why not simply ask for help? What's with the hard line?"

"Good question," Gibbs grants.

"Only kind I ask." He catches the older man's glare barely in time. "Shutting up now, boss."

"Too late." But Gibbs looks forward to obtaining the answer. Is this a knee-jerk reaction of a grieving grandfather with extraordinary power, or is there an unknown depth of resource behind the threat?

x

"Resources aren't an issue," Computer and Information Technology Specialist Dr. Timothy McGee points out as if he could read Gibbs' mind. "Replicators, which they have plenty of, industrial as well as personal size, shoot out supplies in abundance. Replicator technology, in fact, wiped out poverty and hunger pretty much everywhere, and if they do break ties with the UFP I can't imagine anyone's going to ask for the equipment back."

"We've run into a mystery much deeper than murder," Gibbs sums up, "but it's the murder that's the key. What _do _we know?"

"Edaniya Kelbron," DiNozzo reports, "the granddaughter of Third Planetary Councilor Makyao Kelbron, was found on her living room carpet at 2046 hours, Federation Standard Time, the night the Enterprise left."

"Since the planet's rotation is 21.3 FS hours," Ziva David cuts in, "it was essentially a half hour to midnight, local time."

"Local where?"

"Cintara, the Capital city, if you can call stretches of parks and shore front a city. The grandfather lives in Gotram, 31 kilometers north by northeast."

Gibbs sets this aside for now. It's been a very long time since distance has meant anything at all in Criminal Investigation. The transporter is a line-of-sight piece of technology used throughout the Federation, throughout almost all technological civilizations in fact, and though 31 kilometers can be traversed in .3 hours by ground vehicle on a level road, it takes 3 seconds by transporter.

"Tricorder readings?"

"None," McGee says.

"_Still_ none?" This is ludicrous. They were supposed to have received much by now. He'd thought that was the negotiated agreement but apparently, as with Captain Picard, agreements aren't what they used to be. At the very least there should have been DNA checks. They may or may not reveal who killed the girl but they will certainly reveal who last had contact with her.

"None revealed."

There had been none before they'd left Delta III but Gibbs hadn't been worried; the data would come when the Council finished their negotiations. Now, however, the silence is an issue.

"Palmer," he looks to the blue uniformed Asian woman, "why haven't the Risians released their data?"

"They don't trust us and the politicians aren't getting anywhere."

"Trust is the issue," DiNozzo says, "so naturally some genius enlists Politicians to smooth it out."

x

"Who doesn't want non-Risians solving this?" Gibbs muses. The natives in general may well be behind it, but he needs a name, someone to focus upon.

"I, err, don't know," McGee confesses. "It's all we've been able to do to get that holograph of the scene."

"Let's see it again." He's studied the image while alone and wants to see what his team has perceived.

McGee, already holding the appropriate isolinear chip, slips it into a reader slot and the top of the desk lights up with a meter wide image of a living room photographed in daylight. Gibbs isn't concerned that the image is upside down to him, he'd seen it often enough and this new perspective might reveal something.

The image is a wide view of the sunlit room. Beside the entrance door accessed by two steps they see two horizontal pegs beside the painting of a sun low over a placid sea. To their right of that an evidently comfortable chair centers a mini alcove defined by light curtains that back two large and well stocked bookstands, all surrounded by numerous green plants and exotic multihued flowers.

The windows at the rear of the image are large, but rather than glass they contain a collection of circular holes, one large one in each, two medium size and many small circles. Both windows share the same motif, yet the patterns are different.

The door to the far right is at floor level and information squeezed out from the details eyedropper said it leads to the bedroom, and there are two other rooms to the left, the last almost out of the holoimager's field. Most of the light comes from a skylight which, conveniently, shines the light of the Risian sun directly where the Investigators need it. In the room's center is a large white sofa whose back is to the outer door so its front faces the camera.

Before it, upon the rug depicting a seascape, lies the supine body of a woman, apparently eighteen human years, already reported to be nearly twenty Risian. Her skin is slightly dark due to a rich, year round tan. Her head is to the image's left. Her brief dress of green and blue interlocking curves blends with the sea illusion carpet. The girl, as the computer legend provides, stood 1.6 meters tall and tipped the Risian scale at 51.71 kilos. Her lavender eyes, when Gibbs momentarily expands the image with fingertip manipulation to center upon her head and torso, stare up at the skylight. Her sheer, almost translucent dress isn't rumpled, her very light brown hair is neatly arrayed, her expression placid as though she'd merely fallen asleep, eyes open.

The thing that destroys that illusion is the splash of light red, now in death almost a rich pink, blood that covers her from upper chest to upper stomach, surrounding the hole below the level of her breasts.

x

Gibbs manipulates the three-D image, mildly annoyed that the photographer who'd documented the scene had imaged only the front half of the room. They look now upon the still body from directly above. The manipulation of angles is an advantage of computer assisted holotech, though it can't help with the rest of the room that remains unimaged. They must make do with what they have.

One immediately notable point is that while Risians are easily distinguished by a round disk about two centimeters wide, adhered to their foreheads, each containing a different distinctive design, this girl's forehead is bare. More than bare, for there's a circular portion of white skin prominent on her bloodless tanned flesh.

It's obvious to all that she hadn't died in so well postured a condition, legs together and arms at her sides as though ready to be laid into a coffin. However:

"Duck?" Gibbs asks.

x

"See the backs of her legs and her right arm, the way the blood - which is naturally a much lighter shade of red than human blood, by the way - had already fixed position." Gibbs adjusts the control, the image swings to a floor level shot looking on from the girl's right side. "Note that the collection of blood on her thigh, calf and arm are all consistent with her present position. Jethro, this young lady was murdered and her body placed in this apparent state of repose before lividity set in.

"Someone positioned the body in this manner, flat on her back, very likely also straightening her clothes, such as they are, out of meaning, eradicating any clue they might have given us."

Gibbs is still waiting for anyone who can tell him definitely if the girl was killed in her home or if they must search for a Primary Crime Scene, admitting that question will be unanswerable until he can examine the site in person. It has, however, always been clear that the girl was killed before midnight and holoimaged in the bright sunbeam in this position.

"We'll have to depend on you to give us different clues."

"I shall endeavor to do so," Mallard says with strained patience, his tone conveying that he's not hopeful of many miracles. "We're still reviewing Risian anatomy and physiology," he says, indicating by his expression the depth of detail involved in comparative physiology of even closely related humanoid races, of which, despite appearances to the contrary, humans and Risians are not.

"Any judgment on how long she was dead before this holoimage was made?" They certainly cannot use sunlight angle as an indicator when, without knowing the orientation of the house, longitude and latitude are virtually worthless, and time is part of the wealth of data that hasn't been shared.

"None. Several hours, obviously. It's said night comes quickly in Risa but the truth is everything does. With a diurnal rotation of 21.3 hours, light and shadows that seem steady on Earth visibly move as you watch.

"I would have to examine the body but, deducting an unknown number of hours in a stasis field of unknown efficiency together with the unknown position of the sun in an unknown longitude and latitude along with unknown details of Risian physiology and how that affects livor mortis... I prefer not to be pressed."

x

"Where is the blood?" Ziva asks, her tone making it clear she has held this point for as long as she intends. The dress is covered in blood from upper chest to upper stomach only, while the living room, even to the white couch and seascape carpet, is immaculate.

"There is yet another complication. This may be all the blood that ejected from the wound or this may be a Secondary Crime Scene. The single holoimage and the sparse information provided simply leave no way to determine for certain which is the case.

"Best effort, Duck." He turns to the petite Asian woman seated between Ziva and Abby. "Palmer, the legal situation."

x

"Untenable, sir," Michelle says, her eyes and tone reflecting her reluctance to come into this briefing with less than a fraction of her normal store of details. "If we have their complete records, and I drew from Federation records as far back as when the planet was first evaluated for Associate status 63 Earth years ago, they have very few written laws. I've only come across two planets with fewer; Argelius II, which has been a 'rest stop' used by ships for over 160 years, and Rubicun III, whose people, the Edo, have only one effective one, commit no crime - which I have yet to read a definitive set of laws on - in the 'punishment zone', itself an arbitrary area that changes daily, on pain of death. In fact, the Death Sentence seems to be their only stable law."

Gibbs had been thinking about them earlier, but their somewhat simplistic system of laws will do little good here. "What kind of penalties are we looking at here?"

"There are no provisions for murder that I can find. I suspect because no one who wrote the laws–"

"A little less speculating."

She swallows down the sting. "The laws can be considerably in flux even as we speak, sir. The problem we face is that laws can be created by the Planetary Council to fit circumstances for which there are no provisions or precedents. In the Federation's Legal System, you cannot create a Law and then arrest, try, convict and penalize someone for an act which was not illegal when the act was committed. From what I understand of Risian Jurisprudence, that provision does not exist. Therefore, the Council can, and very likely may, create a law and apply it retroactively to penalize this."

"And the victim," DiNozzo says in doomed tones, "is the granddaughter of one-third of the Council."

######

Author's Note: For those fen unfamiliar with metrics, Edaniya Kelbron is 5'6" tall and weighs 114 Risian lbs.


	4. First Contact

Chapter Four  
>First Contact<p>

At the revised rendezvous time of 1800, which at warp seven was slightly surprising due to the new location being significantly further from Delta III than where they would have met in an hour and a half, Jean-Luc Picard steps onto the bridge followed by William Riker. Data, relinquishing the single center seat, informs him that "We have reached the revised coordinates for rendezvous with the Service Ship Bonaventure."

"Thank you, Commander. All Stop." He sits down and Data takes the single forward Con Station, relieving an Andorian Ensign who assumes the backup station on the Port upper level as Riker assumes his own post to the right of but below the isolated Command station. Commander Deanna Troi is already seated at her post, her position reflecting Riker's forward and below Picard's.

"Reading All Stop, sir,"

"Any contact with our guests?" Picard doesn't bother to hide the irony.

"Captain," Commander Worf reports from the standalone Tactical Station to Picard's rear left, his voice filling the bridge. "Long range sensors show a ship on an Intercept course."

x

As the ship is just appearing on the long range sensors, Picard sets himself in his chair, ready for the wait. They'd had a much shorter trip than the vessel coming in from Delta III so he's not surprised by the disparity, though this was the time that Bonaventure's pilot had confirmed with Data for the rendezvous. Worf, however, is not finished with his report.

"They are traveling at warp _twelve_ point two."

Surprised, Picard turns his seat counter clock to face the officer. "Confirm?"

"Confirmed. They... they have now slowed to warp twelve."

"Don't get to hear that said too often," Riker, now behind his left side, quips.

He returns his seat to face the main screen. "No indeed, Number One. Mister Data, details on that ship?"

Tying sensors into his helm station, the android compiles his information. "The transponder code confirms it is the SS Bonaventure. Sensors show it to be 49 meters long by 29 meters by 9.45 meters in height, or overall approximately six times the volume of a Federation Runabout."

"Big ship for eight people," Riker observes.

"With their speed," Geordi LaForge says from the Engineering Station to their left, his voice tinged with envy, "I doubt they spend much time between ports."

"Captain, the ship now appears on _short_ range sensors."

He wants to say 'already?' but dislikes how it'll sound. "When will we rendezvous?"

In the middle of the screen, eight kilometers forward, a flash appears that rapidly traverses downward through the spectrum to resolve into a silver ship that occupies a third of the screen.

"Now."

x

The bridge crew studies the smooth silver vessel before them as it pivots to face them. Smaller in the bow, it increases in height until about one third of the way back before leveling off in height to that 9.45 meters. It has three nacelles, one on either side at the base, detached from the ship and almost as long, one extending the two thirds length up top. The smoothness of the hull obscures anything like plates and rivets, making it appear as though liquid mercury had been poured all over the vessel and had hardened, hiding angles, plates and rivets. The silver hull reflects the stars and other celestial bodies surrounding it and they suspect that, if not for its proximity - so far as space distances go - it might be indistinguishable from the starry background. "LaForge, what do we have on that ship?"

"Sensors can't penetrate the hull, Captain."

"We are receiving a Hail," Worf announces.

"Open a channel." When he hears the appropriate _meep,_ he gives the standard formal ship-to-ship greeting: "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard commanding the Federation Starship Enterprise."

"This is Doctor Timothy McGee aboard the SCIS Service Ship Bonaventure," a man's voice replies with a slightly amused note, as though expecting someone to say 'no _kidding'._ "Request permission to dock."

Picard glances to Riker, who nods, confirming he's checked with the Deckmaster that there's enough room for a vessel which is twice as long, wide and high as a Runabout. "You may dock when ready."

"Thank you. Bonaventure out."

x

As opposed to its precipitous arrival, the silver ship begins a stately curve about the Starship's port side so it may enter from aft. As it moves, it continues to reflect the celestial grandeur.

"Sensor readings coming in now," Geordi says, half watching the monitor, half the main screen. "They turned off some pretty high powered navigational deflectors. Three decks, engineering and systems are in the lower eight feet, the upper two decks being-" Geordi sits back in his seat and doesn't even try to sound unimpressed. "Captain, that ship uses Quantum-Warp Drive."

"Quantum-Warp?" Riker's as impressed. "I've heard of some Research projects, but Starfleet R&D couldn't get it to work."

"They finally scrapped the idea," Geordi concludes, "but looks like someone got–" He stares at the panel, awestricken, muted by what it'd revealed. Then he turns, stands up to face the main screen as though, Visorless, he would see more than his instruments reveal. "That's a _Bravinan_ ship."

"Bravinan..." Picard recalls the race. "But the Bravinans settled Caldis III about two hundred years ago and made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the Federation."

"Looks like they changed their minds," Riker says.

x

Geordi directs the sensors' readout to the lower right of the main screen and they display details of the ship as it passes and maneuvers to come up behind, the silver hull reflecting the Enterprise's. There are eight people aboard, five on the middle level, three on the upper. The technical information revealed continues to fascinate the assembled scientists.

"I still don't detect a single plate or rivet," Geordi says, his voice ranging from monumentally impressed to drowning in avarice . "It looks like the ship was poured out of mercury. And it came in at warp 12.2."

Riker shakes his head, smiling as enviously. What might he give to spend a half hour at the helm of that beauty? "From what little I've read of them from their contact with Captain Archer and the first Enterprise, that probably would've been a summer stroll."

"You're not far wrong, Commander." Geordi turns back to the screen, his voice reminding the bridge crew of a five year old's on Christmas morning. "I wonder what its top speed is."

"I expect considerably faster," Picard grants briskly as he rises, anxious to get their business underway, knowing his Chief Engineer will be crawling about that vessel's innards at the first moment he gets.

"Maybe instead of them riding with us," the Engineer hopes, "you can ask _them_ to give _us_ a lift?"

Riker, at his side, leans an inch closer to Picard. "I think Geordi's in love."

"Not love, Commander," he says, then turns back to the image aligning on a parallel course. "But I'm in serious Like."

xx

While the Bonaventure maneuvers into position to enter through the Enterprise's aft dock in stately arc rather than maniacal dash, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, First Officer Cmdr. William Riker, Ship's Counselor Cmdr. Deanna Troi and Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy proceed to the Shuttle Bay.

Though the Sovereign Class Starship is tremendous compared to the SCIS ship, relative sizes can be deceptive. The Bonaventure is 48.768 meters long, 29.26 wide and stands 9.4488 high, so it takes up more space than 4 Runabouts parked 2 by 2 while standing nearly twice as tall.

The Deckmaster had had to do a bit of shuffling of the Starship's Shuttlecrafts to make enough room for the formidable ship. Data had evaluated, and reported to them while they were descending in the turbolift, that its three mercury silver nacelles, two extended about a meter from either side of the base of the ship and running the full length, one running the latter two thirds of the upper hull, provide enough thrust for the ship to cruise almost indefinitely at Warp 8, convenient for a ship that must frequently be someplace a vast distance away at very brief notice.

Picard, initially seeing this ship on the main screen, had momentarily considered acceding to Geordi's suggestion. He would not, of course, but while he has boundless pride in the Enterprise, he has to admit the Bravinan ship would easily win a race to Risa.

When the bay is pressurized and the doors slide apart, he gets an exceptional view of this ship. To call it silver is an injustice; the vessel is virtually a mirror which, due to a curving hull which negates the need for sharp angles, reflects a slightly distorted view of the bay, himself and his companions. Rather than seeing rivets and panels, it looks like the ship has been covered in liquid mercury and flows from one segment to another. The only portions not reflective silver are the SCIS sigil which is repeated large on port, starboard and aft and somewhat smaller on angled bow together with the strategically placed and repeated name, registry number and running lights.

He glances at Cassidy standing to his left on the other side of Troi, her image reflected on the silver hull before them. She's another anomaly on Enterprise, her blue uniform from boots to high collar unlike her shipmates' black uniforms with gray shoulders and upper torsos and the Division colored tunics and cuffs, while the gold emblem above her left breast isn't Starfleet's silver arrowhead and gold band but the SCIS gold shield depicting half a bald eagle with brown wings downward protecting the Federation's black and silver laurel leafed star pattern.

The silver emblem on the right side of her collar where rank pips would normally be found is the starboard profile of a Constitution Class Starship, dating the uniform's design. It can be a formidable, even severe uniform, yet in a few seconds the gray/black Starfleet attire will be in the minority by three to one.

x

Three meters off the deck and one third of the way from the stern facing the bay doors a portal slides soundlessly to the right and trained eyes fail to spot either seams or mechanism. From a centimeter below that opening a silver ramp extends, angled downward to clear the starboard nacelle to touch the Enterprise's deck. A straight ramp could not have that angle of descent, but Picard is ready to give up preconceptions concerning this ship.

When the ramp touches the deck five men and three women, all clad in blue, start down the ramp toward them, a tall, gray haired man in front center. That man has, on his right side high collar, a gold five pointed star, while the others have differing symbols in the corresponding places. Picard quickly notes a silver star at the throat of the man a half pace back, a silver shield on the tall black haired woman's throat, a silver open book and archaic fountain pen on the smaller Asian woman's collar, two Medical Caduceus, a duotronic emblem and a molecular pattern of dots and lines at the final woman's throat.

The leader halts two centimeters before the end of the ramp. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted. Welcome aboard the Enterprise. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard," he says formally as the eight descend and spread outward, their leader to the center and the formality of entirely unnecessary introductions is sketched. It's a polite convention, though everyone in this bay knows each has researched every other person quite thoroughly.

"Chief Gibbs," Picard says to the leader of the eight Special Agents, eight more than he ever wants working aboard his ship, "how do you plan to proceed?" He notes that while he addresses the Chief Investigator, the other seven SCIS agents exchange silent, discreet greetings with their fellow.

x

"The details Risa released are crap," Gibbs announces succinctly. "Before we get there I want my team to work with their counterparts among your crew, and when we reach Risa tomorrow we'll take over the Investigation."

Picard is glad for the tone of this encounter. His own research and what Paula Cassidy has shared reveal that Gibbs isn't a man to waste time on social pleasantries, and if one of his crew is suspected of murder and of threatening the stability of who can say how much of the Federation, he doesn't feel sociable.

He glances at the ceiling, an unnecessary though automatic act; he's not talking to anyone in the bay anymore. "Captain to bridge, depart for Risa when ready." The Beta Shift Helmsman has already been informed that Picard wants to arrive at Risa at 0800 local time over the capital city of Cintara and knows exactly the speed required to fulfill that order.

/Aye, Captain,/ Lieutenant Patrick's voice responds from above.

"Chief, this way to the Conference Room."

xxx

Alternatively the Observation Lounge or Conference Room depending upon the intent of the gathering, the large space at the Bridge's rear rarely has to accommodate fourteen persons. The Quartermaster has set sufficient chairs, allowing the principals to take seats at the curved, softly lighted table, others to sit in an outer ring organized by duty. The illuminated table's curve follows the windows on the outer side, allowing views either of space or the museum of Enterprises display. When the group steps down the four steps from the corridor entrance to the right, they find CSO Worf and CMO Doctor Beverly Crusher already present.

The first thing done is the production upon the wall mounted monitor beyond Picard's chair of the holographic image of the Crime Scene. Integration of what's currently known is brief; everyone present knows the problem and the information sent by Risa is sparse indeed.

"Doctor Crusher," Mallard assumes control immediately after the group is seated, addressing the black/gray/teal uniformed woman who sits opposite him on the outer curve mid-table, her back to the windows, "have you ever done anything with a Risian?"

Though everyone pointedly fails to notice the momentary look away and the smile that pulls at her lips, Mallard resolves to ask his further questions with greater care.

"No, Doctor," she replies when she has schooled her expression. "I've reviewed physiological details more thoroughly for this mission, but I've never treated a Risian patient."

"Is there much difference?" Picard asks from the head of the table, Gibbs at his left, watching both Doctors intently.

"On the surface no," Mallard says. "Risians and Humans are externally virtually indistinguishable, but internally there are distinct differences. Mean body temperature is 36.16 Celsius or 97.1 Fahrenheit, resting heart rate averages 43 beats per minute, blood pressure comparable to humanoids of similar metabolism.

"There should have been a considerable spray of blood unless death was immediate, which is wholly possible. It is also not unreasonable that the murder weapon itself could have impeded the flow of blood at the moment of death. Further, as you know, if death is immediate, as it may well have been, there is very little blood flow.

"We cannot judge anything based upon a single holographic image of the young lady while clothed," Ducky continues, frustration heavy in his tone. "Risians have four more true ribs - in fact they do not possess floating ribs - and all the ribs approach one another much more closely than those of humans, so they may or may not have provided some protection. If so, when we autopsy the young lady, we may learn something about the blade," he indicates with a gesture the holoimage displayed behind Picard, "but from a single clothed image we can determine nothing."

x

"The Risians screwed up on information about this murder," Deputy Chief DiNozzo says from beside Gibbs, his tone conveying the Investigators' frustration at the lack of data released, "We can't even be sure this is a Primary Crime Scene or not, or if she was stabbed through the heart and didn't bleed more than what we see on the dress. She may have bled elsewhere and those stains would've told us a lot."

"We can only judge," Doctor Palmer says, "that if she were human she'd have died almost instantly from catastrophic loss of blood pressure, _if_ the whatever-it-was pierced her heart, but we can't tell it did until the autopsy."

"And chemically," Mallard picks up the train where it had been left, "there are significant differences. Humans and Risians are not compatible for procreation, for instance."

"What about organ placement?" Picard has already raised this concern with his CMO.

"Sorry," Beverly Crusher replies, "with the exception of a difference in angle of orientation, their hearts are essentially where ours are. Several organs have some placement variation, but heart, lungs, kidneys and stomach are about where you'd expect. And from that image, it looks like her heart might have been pierced - but that'll depend upon the autopsy to confirm or deny."

Picard doesn't want to say this, for a negative reply will work strongly against the Enterprise crew. "So if she was stabbed in the heart, no particular knowledge of Risian anatomy was needed for someone to kill Edaniya Kelbron."

"No."

x

"Mister Data," Picard is determined to take some proactive stand, "you have the list of personnel who took their Leaves in the vicinity of Miss Kelbron's home."

"Yes sir, but I am constrained to point out that with the extensive availability of transporters–"

"Yes, Data. We'll concentrate on the simplest answers first. How many crew and family members are we talking about who spent any time within a half kilometer of her home?"

"Reviewing communicator trace records, nine crew, thirteen family members and four civilian scientists."

"Are we able to determine who might have seen her?"

"No sir. Sensor data can identify those who spent any time within a one half kilometer radius of a fixed point but does not tell us their actions." There is no need to go into the well known matter that without communicators there is no method of tracking. If you don't want the ship to know where you are, just leave your comm badge in your hotel room.

However, Picard had long ago established a Standing Order for all personnel on Leave. You may go wherever you wish but you _will_ retain your communicator.

If he has any hope of proving the innocence of his crew, he must be sure that order has been obeyed.

"Who spent the greatest amount of time closest to that point?" he asks.

"Crewman Russell Greene, Physicist John Miller and Botanist Richard Quichalo."

x

Gibbs nods. Failing the attainment of DNA traces of the Crime Scene, at least he now has some names. He'd rather have the DNA data so he can search for or eliminate a phantom fourth but "We'll start with them."

"What do you mean you'll 'start with them'?" Riker demands.

"We'll interview them first."

"They'll have nothing to hide," the First Officer says as sharply. He's conducted many such interviews but he resents outsiders coming in and subjecting his crew to Interrogation. The incident with Admiral Nora Satie and her minions had been one too many. "All you have on these three is that they were within half a _kilometer_ of her home, nothing more."

"We're neither looking for anyone with something to hide nor to crucify anyone for taking a walk," Gibbs declares. "We're looking for people who can fill in some of the gaps."

"Which right now," Tony DiNozzo says from his place opposite the annoyed Exec, "are big enough to fly the Bonaventure through."

"Someone is blocking this Investigation," Gibbs tells Picard. "We got no DNA traces so until now we had no idea who might have even been close to her. We got nothing beyond the single holoimage," he gestures to the annoying display beyond Picard, "and that only shows less than half the Crime Scene. We can't even see what's in other rooms. Now that we have some idea who may have been the last ones to see the woman, we have to start there."

"You shall have a chance to interview all three," Picard says. "My First Officer and Ship's Counselor will assist."

"That's not necessary," Gibbs counters. "Cassidy and DiNozzo can take that."

"Chief," Picard says, his quiet voice one his crew recognizes and these men and women are going to learn the significance of, "this is a joint Investigation."

"The Federation Council placed us in charge."

"You are free to take the matter up with them when you return to Delta III, but as my crew stands accused, you may assist _us_ in our Investigation."

"I want to be at all those interviews." Riker intends that they have proper representation just as Crewman Tarsis did, as he had when accused of murdering Dr. Nel Apgar, as Data had of Picard when he'd been declared Starfleet's property.

"Not necessary, Commander," Gibbs declares.

"Like Hell it isn't! You people come aboard and start investigating this crew for murder, you–"

"Commander," is all Picard says, and not at all forcefully, but though it silences the protest it does little to cool the room's ambient anger. He turns to Gibbs. "Our two groups will work cooperatively on this Investigation."

Five seconds of staring, a contest of wills neither man is willing to lose. Ten seconds. "Very well, Skipper."

x

Gibbs turns to Agent Cassidy two thirds of the way along the curved, top lit table. "Any of those three have a history of problems on Risa or other Shore Leave facilities?"

"No, sir," the SAS assures him.

"Is there anything distinctive about Kelbron?" he asks generally, having already covered the answer aboard the Bonaventure but wanting the Enterprise crew brought up to date on that aspect as well. The image is still on the wall monitor to illustrate the answer. "Her body, its placement, anything?"

"Wish we knew, boss," DiNozzo says. "There's no way of knowing where she was when she died and was laid on that floor, or even to confirm she'd been in the house."

"Do we have any information on who found her?" Gibbs asks, directing the question to Commander Data. Even that information had been excluded along with every other useful detail, a truly aggravating series of omissions, but if anyone in the room is thoroughly versed in the most recent minutia of this case, it's the android.

"No, sir."

"I'm wondering if the Risians want this one solved," McGee says. "They have their murderer, they've already tried and convicted the Enterprise crew and either they're stonewalling the Investigation or they really _are_ as incompetent as they seem."

"We can determine some clues on her body's placement," Ducky says, "from lividity and exclusion patterns, that she was placed in that position shortly after death and before the scene was imaged several hours later, but until the autopsy we know little more. Was the body placed in that position elsewhere, then transported before or after lividity was fixed. We have no definitive information. There is too much room for conjecture."

"We have not even been told what kind of weapon we are looking for," Ziva declares.

"By the time we arrive, the Crime Scene and the Evidence will be eight days old," DiNozzo points out the detail none of them have forgotten.

Gibbs tone signals the conference's conclusion. "Then we'll begin now with the supposed last ones who might have seen Kelbron alive."

x

As the meeting breaks up, Geordi LaForge gets close to Deputy Chief DiNozzo as quickly as he can. "That's some ship you have."

"Isn't she a beauty?"

"I'd love to get a look at it."

"Talk to our Tech guy," he says, thumb out toward McGee as he's passing.

"What can I do for you?" McGee asks, recognizing the light in the Chief Engineer's eyes.

"I was hoping to get a look inside your ship."

"McGee," is all Gibbs says.

He turns back to the anxious man. "I could give you a look," when the boss doesn't bite he continues, "but you have to realize that 99% of it is Classified by Treaty with the Bravinans." As the others filter out, he smiles and says conspiratorially "But that 1% is really cool."

xxx

Beverly Crusher, who had come on duty at 0800, would prefer to be resting at 2016, but the concept of 'Off Duty' is rare for a CMO and in the years since she'd earned her third solid rank pip it had disappeared entirely. She's reviewing for the second time everything there is to know about Risians and feeling her brain turning to cotton wadding. The medical information is on the far end of the scale from the Crime Scene data, almost too much to absorb on one sitting. She turns from her computer monitor when she senses prior to seeing her visitors step into the main room of Sickbay.

The two blue uniformed Forensic Pathologists pause within the closed entrance. The shorter, older man takes in the entire bay in a glance, his taller partner has to look.

Feeling slightly energized by the prospect of colleague visitors, she steps out from behind her desk and greets the pair in the outer room.

"Good evening, Doctor," the older man says.

"Beverly, please. With so many doctors here it'll be hard to tell who's talking to whom."

"Indeed. Please call me Ducky."

"And I'm Jimmy."

x

This has the earmarks of being a much more convivial encounter than that Conference had been. That had been the meeting of two very disparate groups, only one person present being capable of bridging the gap between them, and as a First Contact it had gone poorly. The question of integration is still unresolved, but she has higher hopes for this encounter.

"I wanted to get a look at your facilities before we reach Risa," Ducky says. "This is our first time aboard a Sovereign Class Starship."

Of that Beverly has little doubt. Thus far, there are only four in service. "Make yourself at home."

"You don't want to do that," Jimmy advises. "The last time Doctor Mallard made himself at home was on Denib V and he wound up throwing four nurses out of the hospital."

"You make it sound as though I threw them out of a window." He looks to his hostess, relieved to see she suffers from no such misapprehension. "To set the record straight, they were abysmally versed in the requirements of Forensic Pathology. They had taken it upon themselves to save time on a suspected murder victim by transporting, stripping and scrubbing the body before I'd arrived."

"Sounds inconvenient," Beverly quips, earning a surprised look from Mallard before he smiles.

"Yes, well I suspect I have little reason to fear the same from the former Chief of Starfleet Medical. Fortunately, we managed to impose strict regulations on the preservation of Edaniya Kelbron's body as soon as word reached us, so though we do not have the placement of the body at the scene to work with, we should have something to examine when we arrive."

"So, what may I do for you?" Despite Mallard's disclaimer, she doubts the men have given up their night in favor of a tour.

"I'm interested in seeing your facilities with an eye toward conducting the Autopsy here. I confess I have very little confidence in the Risians' Pathology skills."

She sees Palmer, half a step behind his superior, fight back a grin. "I agree with you. Let's go to the morgue."

There are so few people aboard this ship to whom she can say that.

xxx

Picard is in his Ready Room, reviewing everything there is on Risian law and criminal activity. There's so little that the most recent incident involved his own CSO when the Klingon had been assigned to Deep Space Nine. He'd been there with his late intended bride, a Trill named Jadzia Dax, and several other of the Station's personnel when a rouge group calling themselves the New Essentialists had sabotaged the planet's Tectonic Stabilization System.

Since that years-ago incident, Risa's days had been typically uneventful - until this week.

He's already finished his second read of the sparse information, which doesn't lend itself to this issue, when the door's annunciater breaks his concentration. "Come," he calls, pushing the button to lower the monitor into its slot in the red and grey desktop as the door to the bridge slides aside.

Chief Investigator Gibbs enters, seeming to fill the large room without even trying. His blue uniform with gold badge is at odds with the mauve panels and steel piping of the bulkhead around him. Some day Picard will get around to ordering a better color scheme, such as the Enterprise-D's softer beige. This combination of darker panels split by reflective metal is too hard; it's more suited to the Investigator before him.

"Good evening, Chief."

"Skipper." Gibbs completes his entry and the door slides shut behind him. "I wanted to get some things cleared up between us before we arrive at Risa."

"As do I," he says, trying and failing to keep his grim feelings from invading his tone.

"The Risians don't want Starfleet humans on their planet," Gibbs opens, "even though the Federation Council got the grudging okay for you, your First and Second Officers, CMO and CSO, but–"

"Chief, let us speak bluntly. There is far more going on here than murder, tragic though that is. The Risians know full well what secession from the Federation, or even the barring of humans from their planet, will do to them. It could mean the utter ruin of their economy.

"And while their planet is better situated than Argelius II, Wrigley's Pleasure Planet or Omicron Delta I, those remain viable options for fatigued spacefarers. It is highly unlikely that mixed race ships' Captains will choose Risa for a portion of their crew and not others, so to ban humans will lose them far more in commerce than just human traffic.

"Therefore, my great concern, in addition to what happened to that woman, is to determine what's behind their threat."

"That's concerned us too, Skipper."

"Have a seat, Chief." When they're on the level, Picard continues. "This is a Diplomatic issue as much as a Criminal one. While I do not believe for one minute that anyone from the Enterprise, Starfleet or Civilian, murdered Edaniya Kelbron, and my Officers will work with your people to uncover the true culprit, my focus must be as Starfleet ordered: maintain the stability of the system and keep the peace."

"What if it turns out one of this ship's company," Picard notices Gibbs avoids saying 'crew', "is responsible?"

Picard makes his expression as stony as his voice. "Then we shall deal with that accordingly."

######

Author's Notes: For those fen unfamiliar with metrics, the SS Bonaventure, excluding its three nacelles, is 160 feet long, 96 wide and stands 31 feet high, allowing for the middle 8 feet on the main deck, upper 8 as living quarters and 8 for the lower engine facility, the rest being hull and deck thickness. A Runabout, by comparison, is a single level of occupancy at 76 by 45 by 18.

For the story of the Bravinans and their encounter with Captain Jonathan Archer and the Enterprise NX-01, see my stories 'House of Cards' and 'Starlight Maiden'.


	5. Inquisition

Chapter Five  
>Inquisition<p>

In Enterprise-E's Conference Room, rear of the Bridge and accessible through steps leading down from that left door and one on the right leading to a corridor door, Special Agent Shipboard Paula Cassidy, Deputy Chief Investigator Anthony DiNozzo, First Officer William Riker and Ship's Counselor Deanna Troi face the display of gold Enterprises. The receding starscape in the huge windows behind them is intended by DiNozzo to represent their subject's receding chances. They await the first of the crewmen to be interviewed in the case of the death of Edaniya Kelbron.

The hosted dinner at the Captain's Table, several tables in 10 Forward being joined together, had been a fairly pleasant repast, good food and reasonably pleasant conversation having nothing to do with the mission. But now unpleasant duty awaits.

That this first interview of three takes place at 2200 is something the four keep as far from their minds as possible. This series of conferences could take a long time but the ship will enter orbit above Cintara, capital city of Risa, in ten hours. The Captain will order an immediate beam down.

The room is already heavy with tension which plays along Troi's nerves like a badly maintained Tellarite blatt-horn. On the far left of the curving table, seated beside her superior Anthony DiNozzo, SAS Paula Cassidy sits emotionally closed off, her eyes straight forward, focused on the glass case that encloses gold plated replicas of the numerous Federation Starships that bore the name Enterprise. There's a kind of unity, a harmony of purpose and design in that case that's very sharply lacking at the table.

x

"Paula," DiNozzo speaks first to the woman on his left, drawing her out of the harmony of the fleet, "what's your take on Greene?"

"Generally a good Starfleet crewman, intelligent and reliable," she says, preferring to start out with something that won't anger the First Officer, whom she must deal with daily, nor try the patience of her superior.

"He's thirteen months out of the Academy, assigned to Astrophysics. He's never been in any trouble. A few minor frictions; nobody gets along all the time with a thousand people, but nothing to bring to my attention. Misses his family but on an extended mission who doesn't? Unmarried, a girlfriend on Mars he sounds serious about."

She knows she sounds more hopeful than assured, but the summation is new to none of them. Long distance relationships on the same planet don't work all the time, but when that distance is measured in hundreds or thousands of light-years...

"What about Shore Leaves?"

"This was his second on Risa. He'd had to sleep off a binge after the first one in the community of Jintada but he'd behaved himself."

x

Shore Leaves. It might surprise the layman to know that Planet-falls are her busiest and least enjoyed time. While the crew of the Enterprise is generally a well behaved lot; freedom, sex and alcohol - synthehol is a rare commodity outside military or Starfleet establishments - are a tension making combination for a Special Agent Shipboard.

Some might think that being planet-side for the entire stay would be a treat, a bonus in her official duties because she can't be restricted to the ship - other than _this_ time - but she's frequently happiest when the ship warps out without incident, she can dictate the last of a hopefully boring Report and collapse onto her bed for some true R&R.

"Well," Riker says with a glance at DiNozzo at his left who will take point, an arrangement he doesn't like but must abide by, "let's get this over with."

The three men to be interviewed have been gathered and are held by Security in waiting outside the room's right door. At a signal from the intercom on the table, that door opens and a black woman escorts a nervous young man in to face the Inquisition.

x

Russell Greene's black uniform with gray upper chest and shoulders and teal tunic and wrist piping looks like he's been fidgeting in it for hours as he steps down the few steps from the right door. This man looks barely old enough to shave. Deanna, closest to him beside Riker, essays a reassuring smile that fails to do its job as he steps in and faces them behind the single chair. He looks as though he's suspects it's going to electrocute him.

The tall black woman with the high gold tunic and piping watches the unarmed man intently from her assumed post at the base of the steps, far enough to be removed and close enough to break the man's arm if need be.

"Crewman Greene?" DiNozzo asks, checking some entry on his PADD, as though he needed some confirmation. What he's really doing with his dooming tone is establishing himself as the one to be feared.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have a seat, Crewman."

He does so, alone at the convex table, his back to the Starships; Troi, Riker, DiNozzo and Cassidy arrayed from his left to right on the broader side, DiNozzo directly opposite. Personal Access Data Display instruments rest on the internally lighted table before each of them, but the ones DiNozzo and Cassidy use are less than one quarter the size of Starfleet's, concealable in the palm of the hand.

It's not a small room that they meet in, but DiNozzo's intent is to make Greene feel claustrophobic by the time they move into detail. Behind them the quickly receding stars hint at the young man's chances.

"I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Starfleet _Criminal_ Investigative Service. You're already acquainted with Special Agent Shipboard Cassidy," he concludes with only a leftward shift of his eyes, not turning away from Greene. He locks eyes again almost immediately. He's left off Riker and Troi, the unspoken message 'don't look to them for help' reflected clearly in Greene's apprehensive eyes.

"Sir?"

DiNozzo consults his small PADD, more for show than any need, then sets it back on the lighted tabletop. The polarized screen prevents Greene from seeing what's displayed. "Crewman Greene, you took Shore Leave during Enterprise's recent layover at Risa."

"Sir, is there–?"

"Tell us about it."

"Sir?"

"Your Shore Leave, Crewman. Tell us about it."

x

"Well, er, let me see. I started my Leave at 1600 after Alpha shift ended and beamed down directly outside my hotel for the two days and two nights. I returned to the ship at 0600 on the third morning, two hours before my shift began."

"What did you do during your Leave?"

He shrugs, obviously trying to appear casual. "Well, a lot of eating. I think Medical's going to be mad at me, but I promise I'll work it back off, sir," he tells Riker. The First Officer gives him a companionable nod that's intended to make him feel more comfortable.

It doesn't work.

"What else did you do?" DiNozzo pushes.

"Spent a lot of time lolling on the beach. I swam, surfed - though I have to say the Surfing's pretty poor because of the Weather Control stations. I'd love to have gotten to the waves outside the temperate zone but they wouldn't let me. I guess not all they have is mine."

"There's always the Holodeck."

"Nowhere near the same. Crewmen can't turn the Safeties off... Sir," he concludes with a glance to Riker.

That glance prevents him from seeing Paula Cassidy make an entry on her PADD. It's the chronometer index at which Greene had said 'I guess not all they have is mine.'

x

Under specific inquiry Greene gradually takes them through the first day of his Leave which included a spa visit for a therapeutic massage which he found 'very erotic', followed by some time sunbathing on the beach. He says he met some very friendly Risians, and from the tones of these recollections the encounters were such as to explain why he's reluctant to reveal them in any detail. DiNozzo, on the other hand, is less inclined to allow vagueness.

"What were the names of the women you met?"

"Sir?"

DiNozzo had resolved to hold a hard line but there's hardly a need. This isn't a trained Romulan spy, he's more like a year off an Iowa farm. Then again, the legendary Kirk had been off an Iowa farm. "Come now, Crewman, they can't have been that forgettable. These are Risians we're talking about."

"Yes, well, there were a..." He glances to Paula, to Deanna at either end of the table and back to DiNozzo. "Sir, do we really have to go into–?"

"We're all adults, Crewman. I dare say Agent Cassidy and Commander Troi have had their share of Shore Leaves."

"Well, it... That is..." He looks again between Troi and Cassidy to his left and right, leans in on DiNozzo and lowers his voice. "Well, sir, it's _Risa_!"

"So how was it?"

"How was what?"

DiNozzo tries hard to hold in a grin. "You spent 40 plus hours on the Orgy planet of the Alpha Quadrant, the ultimate 'all we have is yours' society. How many women tried to help you find Jamaharon?"

"Uh, a few."

"How was it?"

He forces his shoulders into a bland shrug. "It was okay."

Under the table DiNozzo leans hard with his right heel onto his left toes.

x

Riker takes up the train, feeling he can smile where DiNozzo can't. "You recall anyone in particular, Crewman?"

"No, sir."

"I remember my last time on Risa, before this one. There was this one woman, absolutely gorgeous, with the most talented hands. What was her name...? Kelbron, that's it, Edaniya Kelbron."

"I don't know."

Even without the Betazoid Counselor's talents, he can see there's no spike in the young man. "Do you recall the names of any of the women you... visited?"

"I, um, I'm not sure. Sir, I didn't do anything wrong. I swear to you I was a perfect gentleman!"

Riker glances to Deanna, reads her message in her eyes. The man was a 'perfect gentleman' with the women he spent time with, or as much of a gentleman as someone seeking Jamaharon could hope to be. "I'm sure you were, Crewman. That will be all." He looks to the woman at the door. "I don't believe we need detain this man any longer." He looks to Greene. "You may return to duty."

x

When the right door to the corridor slides shut, Riker turns to DiNozzo. "I doubt you'll find much more with Miller and Quichalo. They were also only near her, no one can definitely be placed as being _with_ her."

"I don't need to," DiNozzo says. "Even if all three were with her, I'd rather have them wondering and worried. You've been called back to Risa but no Leaves are set, and now these three have been singled out. The other two are going to grill Greene about what we asked, and the less he can tell them the more rattled they'll be. We'll keep them under surveillance, see which of them makes a mistake."

Riker goes to his Command / Demand tones. "And if none of them makes a 'mistake', if all three of them are innocent?"

"I certainly hope not, they're our only suspects." He grins but Riker does not.

"This is getting us nowhere," Riker declares.

"I don't trust him," Paula interjects, pulling the two men's attentions to her.

"Why not?" DiNozzo asks, his expression conveying that while he agrees with her, he wants her particulars to add to his own.

"He displayed too much willingness to break the rules and go outside the inhabited zone for his surfing. And his 'concern' about talking about sex in front of Deanna and I; who does that today?"

"I think you read too much into that," Troi counters. "I have yet to examine the cultural norms or inhibitions of his society."

Cassidy shakes her head. "Plus, he didn't particularly care for being refused permission to leave the temperate zone, something Risian officials insist upon for guests' safety, something I also covered with the Captain as part of my Threat Assessment. 'Not all they have is mine' he said.

"Makes one wonder what else he wanted that he couldn't have," DiNozzo muses.

"This is all conjecture," Riker declares, trying to hold his patience. The Agents will have the young man convicted of rape and murder before they leave the table.

"We'll pick this up later," DiNozzo says, seeing the conference about to degenerate into something considerably less. "Now if you'll excuse me, Commanders," he says, getting up and heading for the left steps toward the bridge exit, "I have to see a man about some surveillance."

x

None of the Officers need to wonder at his plan. Through the ubiquitous Communicators the ship's computer maintains constant track of everyone aboard the Enterprise. It'd be the simplest thing for Worf, or Agent McGee, to have the computer monitor, record and compile records of the crewmen's every waking action.

As the left door hisses shut the three officers look to one another, but it's only a moment before Cassidy and Troi lean out past Riker's chest.

"I got no sense that Greene had anything to hide," Troi protests. "I certainly detected no sense of guilt."

"Neither did I," Cassidy admits. "What _I_ detected was behavior a touch off key from beginning to end."

"I thought were going to interview all of them on what they did on Risa," Riker reminds them.

"So did I," Cassidy waves her hand at the quarter size PADD before her. The lighted tabletop, though soft illumination, is hurting her tired eyes.

Riker glances back to the bridge door, then to Cassidy. "Well, looks like we're done here. I'm going to get some sleep. 0800 comes fast aboard Enterprise."

He leaves through the corridor door, very ready to send those outside on their ways, leaving the women alone to consider the situation. He knows his fellow officer well enough that he's sure about Deanna's ability to consider the matter dispassionately.

He's not so well acquainted with Cassidy that he can predict her.

xxx

Geordi LaForge steps into the Shuttle Bay to find Doctor Timothy McGee waiting for him before the tremendous silver ship, its curved hull reflecting the bay through odd directions. As he approaches, he scans the ship with practiced eyes, finding no seam. His old Visor would have found some, but now that'd feel like cheating.

"So, ready to be amazed?" McGee asks with a knowing smile.

"Every day and twice on Sundays."

"Remember, everything you see is Classified, but I checked with Gibbs and he says I can show you a little. Actually, no one outside SCIS is supposed to see most of this, we have a total of twelve ships and the secrets are heavily guarded, but I can whet your appetite."

x

McGee has checked carefully into LaForge's Clearance and has been satisfied with what he found. If he hadn't rated as highly as he does, he wouldn't get even this far.

"This is really cool," he says. "Watch." He steps a few feet to the left, stands a bit further out than where the ramp had deposited him and his fellows a few hours before. He raises his hands upward and outward and his voice, lowered by two octaves, reverberates through the bay.

"OPENnnnnn... SAYS Meeeee."

He takes another step. Above and before him, the silver hull slides aside and the ramp comes out in an unlikely downward angle to pass the nacelle and touch down a centimeter before his feet.

LaForge steps up next to him. "You're kidding, right?"

McGee grins. "Yes, I am. The sensors will open the door for anyone standing here wearing this." He taps below his badge. "Wanna see more?" he asks, hand flowing to the ramp.

"I thought you'd never ask," Geordi says, accepting the invitation to lead the way up.

x

When they're on the level Geordi examines the door frame, finding nothing of controls or even mechanism as the ramp returns to its physically unlikely place with no vibrations under their feet and the silver door extends to form a seamless seal. McGee points up and down the ship, twice as long to the bow. "Up top are our living quarters, four port and three starboard plus the Conference Room. Forward down here is the bridge, which I can't show you, ditto the engines down below.

"My lab is there," he points to the far left door, "Abby's next to it, galley, privvy," up the right, "gym, sick bay - it's very convenient having those two together, especially if you're sparring with Gibbs or Ziva. Just behind and starboard of the bridge," he points to that door, "is Gibbs' office and that's _really_ off limits on pain of pain.

"About eight years ago SCIS did a significant favor for a race called the Bravinans who have a colony on Caldis III. At least that's what the Federation called it, they call it Jalandin. They paid us in twelve ships, but part of the deal was we keep the tech secret. That includes the engines."

"That's what I was really hoping to see. How fast can this ship go?"

"Ah... all I can tell you is that when you first spotted us on your long range sensors we were doing Warp Twelve."

"Twelve point two."

"We had already slowed down."

"_Whheeeeooooo_," he whistles appreciatively.

x

"Speed is one thing, and very nice, but as you know there's a lot more to a ship than how fast it can go. This I think you'll like." He places his palm flat upon what looks like a plain section of wall but this slides to the right to reveal a compartment beside the door, at least where the door ought to be because with his human eyes Geordi still can't find the seam. McGee pulls out one of several silver disks, each 7 cm wide with a red button in its center, from a charging unit. "Clip this to your waistband." Geordi does so. "Now press the button."

The moment he does so Geordi feels like he's looking through rose glasses, but a look at his body reveals it's surrounded by a red field about ten centimeters off his skin. "A personal force field. Doesn't do squat for protecting you from phaser fire or anything else, but they're working on that back at the Daystrom Institute.

"Should we be holed, it activates by the button or automatically upon a sudden loss of air pressure and it's trapped a volume of breathable air inside with you. It's not a lot and if you hyperventilate you can use it up pretty quickly, but you might be able to make it to a safe place before you run out."

Geordi pushes the button again and the field vanishes. "Standard gear for in-flight." McGee retrieves the device and returns it to its place in the charger. "Gibbs' rule is everyone wears one when we board, recharge when we leave. There's also one charging in every quarters, except the Palmers' obviously, plus the eight in the charger here.

"This you're really gonna love." He palms open another, larger panel and pulls out one of eight phasers.

"What's this been souped up to do?"

"Nothing." He adjusts the controls. "Let's see, four should be plenty." He hands the phaser to Geordi and indicates the wall opposite them. "Take a shot."

"What?" A phaser at level four will do considerable damage. If their positions were reversed, he would not invite a guest aboard and have him to take a pot shot aboard Enterprise. He looks the device over, it's a standard Starfleet issue phaser, fully powered. "This isn't going to be a corbomite thing, is it?"

"Ah, you've heard that legend."

"It's legendary." He knows all the tall tales of the six previous Enterprises. He wrote several of them.

"It's okay. Shoot."

"Well, okay."

x

He aims, ready to say 'I told you so' when he damages something essential. A one second scarlet beam punches a hole five centimeters wide, leaving a smoking, burnt edge gap. "I hope you have good insurance," he says as McGee takes back the weapon and stows it away in its slot.

"Come on." He leads the concerned engineer to the wall. "Propulsion is one thing, we'll solve Quantum-Warp Drive some day on our own even if we can't reverse-engineer these. Treaty. But this, _this_ is cool." He points to the smoking edge of the hole. "Any second now... There."

As he watches, Geordi sees the charred damage to the metal slowly but noticeably fade and micrometer by micrometer the metal begins to build up. It's moments like this, seeing the effect with natural vision, that he misses the magnification ability of his old Visor.

"Nanotech. The ship's full of it like corpuscles in the body, quintillions and quintillions of nanites, so many I haven't settled on a figure. They repair damage the way the cells of the body repair a cut, and they do it for absolutely everything in the ship. A quarter hour from now you won't be able to find the spot with your best instruments."

"Incredible."

"And, I'm sorry to say," he goes back to the entry port and palms the armory door closed, "tour's over."

Geordi wishes he could see more Bravinan wonders but he's not about to be a poor guest by asking. Maybe he can meet the scientist sometime at Ten Forward and hope he's feeling loquacious. "What can I say? Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Oh, and I mean that. Don't mention this to _any_one."

"I won't. You have my word."

xxx

Medical Examiner Donald 'Ducky' Mallard, fresh from his late conference with Enterprise's very attractive and personable Chief Medical Officer but unable to sleep, enters Ten Forward. His Deputy had left Sick Bay after viewing the Morgue but there were quite a number of things he'd found to converse with the lovely young lady upon.

He's consistently unable to fall asleep well on his first night aboard a new Starship, but at three score and he won't tell how many years he doesn't require excessive sleep, so he's come to the common convivial room in search of companionship.

There is something more about this Investigation to disturb his already jumbled serenity. A half hour ago, at about 2230, he'd been informed by Deputy Chief DiNozzo that he's not only to investigate the planet-side murder of Edaniya Kelbron but along with Ziva to review hours of forthcoming surveillance of suspected crewmen, looking for aberrant behavior and indications of guilty consciences.

Aberrant behavior means he must first learn their typical behavior. 'Good thing I can't sleep well until my second night.'

x

Ten-Forward boasts not only the most savory smells but a panoramic view of the heavens from so numerous windows that one might enjoy the illusion of sailing through space without a Starship. Preferring such a view to the four walls of his quarters, even with a very nice set of four slanted transparent aluminum port side windows giving him a magnificent view of stars whizzing right to left, he pauses at the entrance within the wood paneled doors.

Looking around the 'night lit' room, he recognizes a familiar pair of heads turned from him. He's mildly surprised to see Jimmy and Michelle Palmer sitting close to the foremost window, they having usurped two chairs from a table for the best view. He'd thought they'd long since retired but they watch the stars and stellar matter approach directly and flash past in all angles and variety of rainbow Doppler streaks. They sit so closely, she nestled into him, that in their blue uniforms and the ship's dim night it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Then again, he's known that to be nothing unusual for the couple.

"They've ordered nothing," a purple robed black woman wearing a matching oval hat five sizes too large says at his right, "need nothing but each other."

He turns to the dark woman. Did she materialize here, reading his thoughts with crystal clarity? "Indeed."

x

Guinan looks forward with her newest guest, regards the couple who sit at the exact center of the view, rainbows of matter rushing past above, below and to the sides. "The universe numbers exactly two people," she says softly.

"Not for them the wonders of expanding ionized gas we call nebulae. Not for them the superheated atomic vortexes that we call stars. Muons, protons, leptons, none of it for them, and tachyons exist only as things to tack yon their hearts."

She smiles at the romantic pun. "Young love. Are they married long?"

"Eight years."

_"Really."_ She's as impressed as delighted and hopes to host their fiftieth, suspects they'll be right back in that commandeered spot, alone in the cosmos. But it's time to switch from Romantic to Hostess. "Can I get you something, Doctor?"

x

Ducky considers, mostly the matter of whether her supplies are extensive enough. It never hurts but to ask. "Would you have any Argellian tea?"

"Coming right up," she assures him with a smile that says 'that wasn't even a challenge'.

Ducky follows her and seats himself upon a stool at the lighted bar, the soft light from the top not distorting views in the ship's night, allowing him to take in his surroundings from this vantage. "Most impressive architecture. But tell me it's not that dreaded holography."

"All real," she assures him from now the other side of the long bar. "This ship has advantages over the Enterprise-D, and I think these computers get the flavors better; but you tell me," she finishes, sliding a mug before him. The tea is steeped within a ceramic ball rather than paper and he takes a careful sip.

"Having never tried your Enterprise-D system, I nevertheless pronounce this excellent." He takes another sip, she waits, not pushing the conversation. "Indeed. Excellent."

"Thank you."

"You are quite welcome, my dear."

"So, Doctor Mallard–"

"Ducky, please."

"Ducky. Guinan. What do you think of this situation?"

His spirit drops a notch. "Death, of any kind, is a tragedy, my dear. When you have lived as long as I," he doesn't try to interpret the smile she gives him at this, "you particularly favor life as, one by one, your contemporaries fall to the side, until you are one day left with an empty room."

"Ducky, I don't believe you will ever be left with an empty room."

x

"But our current problem," he says after a time, glancing back for a moment to the lovers who haven't moved a centimeter, who won't be caught up in tonight's concerns, "the death of a young girl is always particularly tragic. Cut down in the prime of life, so much life and growth before her, so many years of a potentially prosperous future _snatched _away. When we arrive at Risa in the morning, I shall see what the young lady will say to me."

"Say to you?"

"The dead always identify their killers." He takes another sip, places the mug on the bar. "It is a matter of asking the right questions and _listening _to the answers."


	6. Summit

Chapter Six  
>Summit<p>

Per Jean-Luc Picard's command following the initial order to return to Risa, the USS Enterprise-E assumes orbit above the planet's Capital city at precisely 0800.

To any space faring race Cintara, with its long stretches of parkland visible from space and its miles of shore front on a sea whose waves never grow beyond four meters would be an exceptional if misdesignated city indeed, but such an expanse of green typifies the civilization. The developed area, the so-termed city itself, occupies a widely separated total but 20% of the whole and one could walk from one end of the community to its opposite end in three hours and cross to the next nearest pocket of civilization in slightly more than five.

On the bridge Picard sits in his isolated chair set at the height of the outer ring deck with Commander William Riker in the lower level chair on his right and blue uniformed Leroy Jethro Gibbs in the one to his left. The other eight SCIS Agents find out-of-the-way vantage points where they may, only Abby and McGee particular about which stations they gravitate to. Before them on the huge viewscreen the green capital expanse stretches kilometer after square kilometer, dotted with natural brown and bordered on the south by the sea.

"Captain," Worf says from the upper deck standalone Tactical and Security Station behind and to the left of Command, his deep voice sounding like it could vibrate the deck, "we are being scanned." This pronouncement is followed by a rapidly repeating series of tones. "We are now being Hailed."

"Thank you, Mister Worf." Picard won't mention that the familiar indicator renders Worf's words an announcement of the very obvious. "Open a channel."

"Open."

"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise requesting permission to assume Standard Orbit about your planet."

"Risa Space Authority to Starship Enterprise: Request denied."

They barely need Worf's announcement that "Communication has been terminated."

"Well, we're off to a good start," Riker observes.

His Captain's stony visage and harder tone telegraph what the man thinks of this welcome.

x

"Mister Worf, reopen that Channel."

"Yes, sir." A few moments later he announces that "Contact is established."

"This is Captain Picard. If you will check with Planetary Councilor Sumnar you will find the Enterprise is here at his invitation."

"Stand by, Enterprise."

"Channel closed," Worf reports.

"That sounded positively belligerent," Riker says, impressed despite his inclination.

"A belligerent Risian is virtually a contradiction in terms."

"Captain."

"Yes, Mister Worf, put him through."

The words that emanate from the overhead speaker are clipped, precise and utterly without warmth. "Permission is granted for synchronous orbit over Cintara. Do not deviate from that position. I would say 'all that we have is yours' but you have already taken too much."

No one needs Worf's report that the signal has been terminated.

"Captain," Data says from the forward Navigation / Helm station, "I believe we have experienced the first recorded confrontational exchange with a Risian."

"Assume synchronous orbit."

"Yes, Captain."

"And Mister Data."

"Sir?"

"Be careful not to deviate."

"No, sir."

Often literal, the android is the only one not to pick up on Picard's light irony. However, nothing about the welcome can be considered funny.

With one exception, those beaming down are already assembled around him. "Lieutenant Worf, have Doctor Crusher meet us in Cargo Bay One. Data, you have the coordinates." He doesn't bother to make it a question.

"Yes, sir."

x

It requires the Cargo transporter to beam down twelve people simultaneously, but Jean-Luc Picard considers it important that Riker, Data, Crusher and Worf together with Gibbs' team - only Paula Cassidy and Dr. Sciuto remain aboard - establish themselves as a united front.

Like all the inhabited areas of Risa, the place where they materialize is resplendent with flowers and plants of virtually every variety conducive to relaxation. Picard hopes they'll do their jobs.

The area where they beam down is technically enclosed but surrounded by the entrances to so many buildings with egress to the outside through so many arches that only the high roof fifteen meters above their heads, composed of skylights and windows give the impression of enclosure. Wide and spacious architecture in varying shades of tan and light brown are built up in an escalating pattern throughout the tremendous atrium while the doorways, open in all common areas, are wide, low arches. The aspect says Tahiti to traveling Earthmen and a frequent motif in gardens and potted plants is a brown fertility symbol known as a Horga'hn.

The atrium, large as a Reviewing field, is filled with flowers and plants of all varieties, creating the impression that even the buildings are part of the nature that surrounds them.

The arches leading to the outside open onto huge planters of colorful flowers, reinforcing the motif of flowers filling the environment.

The few doors that do open and close are to surrounding buildings and appear as natural brown wood replete with grain patterns, but though these are rectangular they're composed of interlocking halves reminiscent of the Holodock entrance, so that the automatic doors zig-zag apart and back. Picard had never taken particular notice of them before, but this time to him they suggest teeth.

x

Risians and guests take their ease throughout the vast space or pass coming and going in all directions, and beyond smiles of greeting they're singularly unconcerned by the materialization of a dozen aliens hailing from six different worlds into their midst.

Women's fashions consist primarily of colorful bikinis, none of which can be considered modest, frequently paired with hip long transparent 'shirts'.

Men's clothing is generally little more, shorts and brightly colored 'beach shirts'.

The first thing each man and woman did, even if they weren't consciously aware of doing so, was to breathe deeply of the air scented with lilac, rose, lily and honeysuckle together with the scents of a hundred worlds, such that any visitor coming to Risa can find a scent or taste of home. This is not Starship air where every unscented atom is filtered and reconstituted each week to a precise combination of nitrogen and oxygen together with carbon dioxide, argon, neon and who cares how many -ons.

William Riker has long held the opinion that the main appeal of Away Missions and particularly Shore Leaves is the air.

High windows, several of which are filtered by colored glass, send visible shafts of light down to the terra cotta floor below. Due to the faster rotation speed of Risa, 21.3 hours vs. the Earth's 24 Federation Standard hours, if one is patient one can watch the shafts track along the floor faster than might be seen on Earth or even Delta III, with its 24.83 hour rotation.

Music forms a soothing background where fountain water runs down harmonized filters. The scents and sound relax muscles and nerves not even known to be tensed.

That relaxing ambiance does not extend itself to the three men who step forward to meet - or perhaps more accurately intercept - them.

x

These men are atypical of Risians. The stereotypical Risian is young, svelte and tanned, but not everyone carries the impression to its logical conclusion, that the Risians are a race not unlike any other, with children and the elderly.

These Risians have seen many a summer, and from their general appearance might have endured many a hard winter except that there are none on Risa.

First Councilor Varekh Sumnar is hardly unknown to Picard, but the bald man's visage is not as welcoming as it had been a few days ago. His slightly younger companions, if one can go by grey hair versus none as a reliable indicator of relative age, appear even less cordial.

Picard steps forward immediately, determined to establish that this is primarily a Federation expedition, not just an SCIS Investigation. "On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, we offer our condolences to Planetary Councilor Makyao Kelbron," that is enough for a flicker of two men's eyes to tell him to whom to direct his words, to the steel gray haired man on his left, "on the death of your granddaughter Edaniya."

"Thank you, Captain," Kelbron says gravely. "But I hold the regrets of the people who murdered my granddaughter of little value and less sincerity."

"We were told," the man on the right, who they'd been briefed is Second Councilor Hamaryu Pragakar, declares, "that you would be limiting your party to the essentials."

"These are the essentials," Picard counters.

"A dozen humans to investigate an obvious murder?"

"Nothing obvious about it," Gibbs says, stepping beside Picard and into the conversation. "However, if you're now dissatisfied with your agreement with the Federation Council, I can have a Tellarite team here in a day."

Picard is satisfied that this disagreement will be quickly resolved without hostilities.

It's a measure of the oddity of the entire situation that he can consider the words 'resolved without hostilities' when dealing with Risians.

x

"If we may be taken to where the lady's body has been brought," Ducky, holding an archaic black leather satchel rather than the Starfleet Medical supply transport case, a personal idiosyncrasy? and clad like his colleagues in an additional lighter blue Medical smock over his blue uniform, says "we shall make what determinations we may with a minimum of disturbance."

Picard notes the man doesn't mention how long this 'minimum of disturbance' will last. He hopes it will be several hours, for while the Doctors deal with the medical issues and the Investigators, together with Riker, Worf and Data, make what determinations they may, his job will be one of negotiation and diplomacy.

While he still grants that secession from the Federation is unlikely, he's known situations when the most unlikely and ill advised results were what came to pass when death and grief were thrown into the mix.

For a moment, he feels nostalgic for the Borg, who are simpler and more straightforward: 'You will be Assimilated. Resistance is Futile.' 'Mr. Worf, fire.'

He recalls his first visit to Risa, a truly educational experience. He'd sought solely to rest and found the enticing and outrageous Vash, an alternately oily and abrasive Ferengi named Sovak, a pair of time traveling Security agents and the Tox Uthat.

It was an altogether enjoyable vacation and he has to wonder if this expedition will end as happily.

x

"Very well," Hamaryu Pragakar says in tones more appropriate to a Klingon than a Risian.

"A Sencatsali will escort you to the Medical Center," First Councilor Sumnar says, giving two sharp claps of his hands.

The Sencatsali, of whatever rank or station that might be, is a young red haired woman clad in the ubiquitous bikini under transparent hip length buttonless 'shirt', who appears from a discreet corner. She'll lead the three Doctors away to whatever constitutes a 'Morgue' on the paradise planet.

Ducky appreciates the escort but, glancing back at his Deputy, notices the younger man's wide-eyes smile at the same moment that his wife does. She doesn't look as pleased.

'Doctor Palmer must learn,' he thinks regretfully as he switches the leather satchel from right to left hand and sets out to accompany the comely young woman, 'that the dangers inherent in navigating space pale before those of navigating a marriage. Otherwise, he may someday wind up as his own client.'

x

"We need to examine the woman's home," Gibbs says, making clear that 'we' constitutes everyone other than Picard. "I believe the body was found there."

He leaves off that he doesn't necessarily believe the murder occurred there. That's for the Investigation and the doctors to determine. If the men don't pick up on his doubts, too bad for them.

Another Sencatsali responds from behind the group in response to the double clap and in fairly short order Picard is alone with First Councilor Varekh Sumnar, Second Hamaryu Pragakar and Third Councilor Makyao Kelbron, whose emotional stress is palpable.

"Shall we retire to our Chamber?" Sumnar doesn't ask, already stepping away toward a closable door.

xx

Beverly Crusher, Donald 'Ducky' Mallard and James Palmer take in the lush native ambiance of the tropical vacation community during the fifteen minute walk to the Medical Center, on the way finding no ostentatious or even apparent indication of technology. Beverly has known only one other planet, Briar I, the somewhat whimsically named planet of the Ba'ku and Son'a, to eschew the display of technology as thoroughly.

While advanced technology does exist - witness the ancient Weather and Seismic Control Systems large and powerful enough to hold back the natural atmospheric chaos of the planet - such technology is generally hidden from view. She's found only one exception, a panel that links with the Planetary Information Net, yet in the common public areas the concession to technology is seamlessly melded to flora both indigenous and imported.

It is true that doors slide aside at the impulse of motion or biological sensors and lights are adjustable at command, but on the whole every method has been used to put technology behind the scenes, rather than incorporating it into the surroundings as 98% of places she's been to seem to do.

She's long ago decided that she likes the Risian method.

Shades of soothing browns and tans in walls and doors blend and flow into greens of plants and paint alike to give the impression of union with nature, indeed with a suffusion of nature where Homo Sapiens are very much the visitor.

xx

But when they're escorted into their destination by the Sencatsali the chamber Doctors Crusher, Mallard and Palmer enter is the antithesis of the outside world. Not only is the air sterile with that distinctive non-scent few beside doctors might recognize by its very non-distinction but there is no foyer or reception area as might be found in a Federation, and particularly a human, facility. Instead they enter the treatment area directly. This one is as advanced and complete as anything Crusher has seen on a Starbase or that she has aboard the ultra-modern Enterprise-E.

What she sees leads her to classify this first room as an Emergency facility, designed for the most rapid treatment of injuries, overhead units eradicating germs just as the lighted ceiling eliminates shadows. It's not unlike her own system, where the most immediate of life saving instruments are placed virtually at Sick Bay's front door. Accidents anywhere in the universe are unavoidable, but the evident thoughts of the designers were to get the patient to treatment as quickly as possible.

Inner rooms, she is sure, will be given over to more detailed treatment based upon species and need.

x

A red clad woman, the first she's seen here not wearing a bikini (or less) greets them as their escort withdraws. The red is in sharp contrast to their own uniforms covered by the pocketed blue smocks ubiquitous to every Starfleet Medical Facility. Something about her whispers East Indian human except she's neither. The light blue disk adhered to her forehead is inscribed with a curving white line that starts not quite touching the top and circles left five quarters about, ending slightly inward of the initial line and pointing downward on the left side.

"Good morning. I'm Plinscart. All that we have is yours."

"Thank you, Doctor," Ducky says, needing to establish himself because though the words Plinscart used are polite and traditional they're given by rote and the woman's eyes hold no warmth.

"You're here to see Edaniya Kelbron."

"No."

x

Ducky's answer halts her. She takes a moment to work through this denial. "I don't understand," she's finally obliged to confess.

Ducky's reply doesn't have the iron of his denial which had reflected her tone. His manner is now quite kind. "We're here to autopsy the young lady and determine how she died so our colleagues may, with their own skills, determine who killed her and, with fortune, why. We intend, in the course of that examination, to treat your friend with all due courtesy and respect."

Watching her face, the Doctors can see she goes through several stages and manners of the response before settling upon a very careful intonation that masks longstanding grief. "How did you know she was my friend?"

"Yours is a small and tightly knit community, and from what I perceive of you both I am confident you would have been good friends."

She softens further. "Yes. We were." She'd looked at his eyes several times. This time she meets them. "Are you a telepath?"

He offers his kindest smile. "No, my dear. Merely old."

They can watch her native graciousness reassert itself. "You're not old. You're venerable."

"Thank you, my dear. May I present my colleagues?" He proceeds to do so.

"I'm Plin." Since she'd already greeted them as 'Plinscart', they perceive amity has begun.

x

Ducky had denied they were there to see the body to avoid any literalist difficulties later. He's known too many occasions where a single misspoken word could lead to irreconcilable difficulties later. Now that the four understand one another, they can act as colleagues rather than adversaries.

"Our condolences on your loss," Beverly says to further cement their connection, and for a few moments the quartet exchange personal words until Plinscart says

"I should show you Daniy's body." The name comes out in three syllables, with a split double 'e' like many Risian double vowel names.

As they leave the front Stat room and make their way through and past several others the Doctors see signs on the doors depicting a variety of species' silhouettes.

It would do little for hospitality for someone to suffer if their own medical treatment were not available. Few people think of this aspect of Risian life; it's sort of like the Administration facilities Captain Picard is likely experiencing; but no matter how carefully a society seeks to minimize the chance of accident or injury, minimization is not eradication.

"What have you learned from your examination of your friend's body?" Ducky asks.

"That Third Councilor Makyao is right. Your Federation should be _banned_ from Risa."


	7. The Crime Scene

Chapter Seven  
>The Crime Scene<p>

Captain Jean-Luc Picard had never been in the Council Chamber of the planet Risa, a situation he would not be surprised could be said of most non-Risians, yet he'd envisioned many things other than the small room with a single table surrounded by four chairs.

The walls, blue and white over green, depict meadows and the multiplicity of other colors expands upon a vast variety of flowering plants under a cloud dappled sky. As the four men settle themselves into quite comfortable seats Picard, opposite First Councilor Sumnar, discerns enough detail on the walls surrounding him that individual petals and grass blades are rendered in exquisite detail. The high clouds almost show each individual wisp of moisture.

Varekh Sumnar, tall and bald, wears a light robe of green, a forehead emblem of a horizontal oval within a round circle of royal blue and a very visible manner of reconciliation. He could be the best prospect for peace but Picard will not judge any impressions.

At his left, on the opposite end of the scale, is Makyao Kelbron, grieving, his manner projecting angry iron gray within a blue green robe. The disk adhered to his forehead is blue with a white line starting eleven degrees to Picard's right of zenith, comes downward to 30% of the way before starting left back upward again, then forms a broad arc reminiscent of a lower case 'a' before terminating a hundred forty degrees down the right side.

Hamaryu Pragakar, seated to his right, might by the lines in his face project a more moderate force under normal circumstances, but his Klingonish expression, quite out of keeping for a Risian, assures Picard he need seek no help from that quarter. His forehead emblem is a white line starting from lower left to rise to a rounded peak before descending to exit at a slightly lower point on the right.

These are the first people he has met who do not indulge in the minimal attire that's the customary fashion of what he now thinks of as the 'younger generation'. The planet's equator is maintained at a mean average of 75F in the daytime, but he's unwilling to speculate yet if the choice of attire is due to station, age or both. The only thing he grants is that this is a severe triumvirate indeed.

x

"So, Captain," Hamaryu Pragakar on his right speaks even before completely seated, "you are here to protest the innocence of your crew and to beg the halting of our consideration to secede from your Federation and the closing of our borders."

"Not at all."

"No?"

The denial has taken the wind from Pragakar's sails and he presses his advantage.

"The killer of Edaniya Kelbron," he nods briefly to Makyao on his left, "has yet to be determined. That is the purpose of the presence of Investigators from the Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service and I assure you that the guilty party, once identified, will be dealt with appropriately. As to the rest that is, I am given to understand, the purpose of this conference and the ones to follow."

"And are we to believe that you, Captain, would punish one of your own for my granddaughter's murder?"

"You may rest assured, Councilor Kelbron," Picard says in tones intended to support justice rather than a drumhead, "that if a member of my crew is responsible for this, he will be punished to the extent of Risian law."

"Very well worded, Captain," Kelbron grants, "for as I'm sure you have been informed we _have_ no laws to cover murder."

"May I suggest we first let the SCIS determine the guilty party while we address the matter of your continued association with the Federation?"

He's careful to take in, as much as possible, the attitudes of the three men surrounding him. Hamaryu Pragakar, to his right, appears at this point to desire a hard line. Makyao Kelbron, grieving, could be the harder one to get through to while Varekh Sumnar, seated across the table before a wide field of flowers, has said nothing. He waits and watches how Picard deals with his subordinates/partners. In not committing himself to a position, his position could be the most advantageous or the most dangerous of all.

In a triumvirate, one person's stand can frequently become the swing vote. If such is Sumnar's position, which way would he swing to?

"I do not believe you."

x

"Upon what point, Councilor Kelbron?"

"I think that, even if you people find evidence that one of your crew murdered my granddaughter, you would not release either it or him to Justice."

"Councilor, of my own word I cannot prove our good faith. I can only cite the long history of amicable relations between Risa and the Federation and assure you of the sincerity of my desire to see that it continue uninterrupted."

"Yes, I'm sure your superiors have given you orders to maintain the balance."

"Or words to that effect." Nakamura's words, in fact, had been to 'keep the peace'.

"I do not believe," Second Councilor Pragakar on his right says, "that the Federation is to be trusted."

"On what do you base that determination?" The man doesn't answer but, rather than back him into a corner, Picard asks "What do you believe is a reasonable basis for determining our trustworthiness?"

"I do not think," Sumnar says, "that the trustworthiness or veracity of the Federation is the issue of the day, but whether we as a people choose to align ourselves with it any longer."

"Your ultimate choice is, of course, for you and your people to decide, but I do urge you not to let emotions, which are presently running high, unduly influence your decision. This is an isolated case and should not be taken as the norm for Risian / Federation relations."

"To date they have been good relations," Sumnar says, "but I am an old man. We are old men. Even you, Captain Picard, have seen more days in your past than are before you."

"I like to think I'm entering the prime of my life."

"But we are not, and we must leave a legacy for the future. What is Risa to be twenty years from now, when others speak for our world and our people?"

"To answer this," Pragakar says, "we must know what Risa is to your Federation."

x

Picard knows there's an important question in that, but he's unsure how to answer it. "In what sense do you refer?"

"What is Risa to you?" Pragakar challenges. "A convenience? A rest port? An _annex_?"

"You see, Captain," Sumnar says, "we speak of Risa and your-"

Kelbron erupts from his chair with a roar and turns upon his fellow Councilors. "You sit talking Politics and Relationships and get away from what's important! We are not here to discuss 'relationships'! A Federationist _murdered_ my granddaughter and you are not going to negotiate that away!"

"Makyao!" Pragakar exclaims but Kelbron waves him away with a flurry of blue green robe.

"I will return when you both are willing to talk about what's important!"

When he stalks out in a flurry of cloth Sumnar, embarrassment weighing heavy in the silence, turns to Picard. "Since our laws require all three Councilors be present at such important talks as these, we will adjourn until a more favorable time."

"Agreed."

xxx

It's crowded in Edaniya Kelbron's home with Leroy Jethro Gibbs, William T. Riker, Tony DiNozzo, Data, Timothy McGee, Worf, Ziva David and Michelle Lee Palmer gathered in the living room, especially with the two diverse groups doing their best to stay out of each other's way while gathering much of the same information.

The house, at the end of a near kilometer trek through parkland, is fairly distant from its neighbors, several meters on each side. The entire Risian standard places individual homes at considerable distance from one another. There are no streets in the usual understanding, long stretches of grass separate each dwelling. There is, in fact, little unity of construction or placement. If a homeowner were to, say, wish to take advantage of sunlight angles at particular times of the year, the house was built and oriented accordingly.

For sake of convenience, stretches of grass paths were designated streets and so named, but the average visitor is hard pressed to determine the borders of even widths of the supposed streets. The Away Team and the Investigators did have the designated street between such and such, but without the guidance of their Sencatsali they would have been hard pressed to find the house in anything approaching a satisfactory time.

x

Ignoring Risian 'rules', Gibbs has insisted on a Medical Officer being present, so Nurse Alyssa Ogawa has beamed down once they were left alone, to substitute for the absent Pathologists. Since she won't leave the house, no one need know. That Michelle searches for evidence while at the same time considers the rules of said evidence and such laws as are known while Worf evaluates the home from a Security aspect, the ease of entrance and exit while Data and McGee address the technical details of body placement and measuring access and action points while Ziva identifies and catalogues trace evidence of anyone other than the resident being here and Riker and DiNozzo examine and coordinate their own and each other's teams finally makes Gibbs call an annoyed halt to the proceedings.

"All right, Palmer and Worf, check the other rooms. Did anyone break or beam in? DiNozzo, McGee, interview the neighbors." There are homes on either side of this one, each spread from its neighbors by many meters. "David, keep collecting fingerprints, tell me who was here a week ago. Data, you, Commander Riker and I will try to reconstruct what happened in this room. Does your Tricorder have the DNA patterns of all of us?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then excluding us, I want to know everyone who was in this place."

"That will be a difficult, sir."

"Why?"

"One must presume that the majority of persons to enter this dwelling are Risians. Since few such records are kept by Risians, Starfleet databases contain no such information."

Gibbs restrains himself from saying anything. He'd known the typical methods employed on Federation planets, Starbases and Ships would be useless here, but he won't give up hope. "Improvise," he tells the android. Trillions of computations per second, he can use a few hundred thousand on this case.

x

Almost everyone in the room is armed with a tricorder so "Anyone find anything that doesn't belong here?"

Since he's looking at the nurse, she answers him. "I'm detecting a hodgepodge of biological traces, all recent, all the same age. I'd say that around the time she was found there were at least twenty five to thirty distinct biological signatures overlaid one atop another. It'll take time to sort out and isolate the signatures."

"Everyone and his uncle traipsed through the first Crime Scene these people have ever seen," Ziva gripes from the entrance.

No one will speculate aloud how much evidence could have been removed on that day or the seven that followed.

"However," Ogawa continues, "I detect no concentration of bacteriological or viral organisms that might indicate the presence of disease."

"She was stabbed," DiNozzo reminds her. "She didn't die of plague."

_"Now_ we can say that," she snaps, not happy to be here where she's risking the stability of the deal Beverly and the others must live under.

"Check the other rooms to be sure," Riker says, "then beam back and start analyzing what you have. Communicate everything with Dr. Crusher that'll help with her autopsy."

"Yes, sir," she says, pleased to be away from the younger Investigator and ready to be gone.

x

Gibbs looks about the living room, little different from the 3D image he'd studied aboard Bonaventure, sans the dead body in the middle of the floor before the couch.

Beside the door is a painting of a sun low over a placid sea, beside which two horizontal wooden clothes pegs extend from the wall. Two steps lead down from the entrance door, but the bedroom door to the right is at floor level. There's a door to the left that leads to the kitchen, and he's already seen that the Personal is to the left of the kitchen.

There's a mini alcove to their right of the entrance, defined by light curtains that back two large and well stocked book stands set right and left of a deep chair, all surrounded by numerous green plants and exotic multi-hued flowers whose aromas scent the air. Several plants hanging from the ceiling are illuminated by full spectrum lamps that came on as they entered the building, very likely responding to motion sensors, compliment those flavors of nature wafting in through perpetually open windows.

Warm breeze flows through several windows set about the room. The distinctive windows are not glass. Instead, they're thin wood with single large circular openings, two medium circles and numerous smaller circles, all of which form irregular patterns, none duplicated, which allow air in but thwart vision except when the observer is close. Excluding the full spectrum lighting above plants, the room's light comes in through these and the skylight above.

Where many public areas display levels of tan and brown to carry through the tropical garden motif, the walls here are given more to a seascape aspect in varying shades of blue, green and white.

In the room's center is a large white sofa set upon the rug which covers half the inner portion of the room and depicts a seascape. The majority of the carpet extends forward of the couch. The quick look he'd taken upon arrival confirmed that each room carries over this theme.

"Data, record everything here so we can reproduce it on your Holodeck. The Crime Scene shots only showed that half of the room," he waves his hand toward the front entryway. "I want to see everything in place with the body. Can your system do that?"

"Yes, sir, with a reasonable margin for error that can be reduced if we allow the Crime Scene images to supersede current placements of furniture and other incidentals."

Gibbs catches the humor reflected in Riker's eyes. "Data, do you ever answer a question with a simple 'yes' or 'no'?"

"Yes." He resumes his recording. Gibbs' look to Riker is half sympathetic.

x

"I have found something," Ziva announces from the door at the top of the three steps. Beside the door is a once silver panel, 8 cm wide by 11 high, on which the woman has sprayed a blue liquid from an aerosol ejector. The panel now shows blue smears. She pulls the tricorder from the elastic strap at her right hip, opens it and scans the panel. "It is blood, and not human." She continues the scan and a few moments later announces: "It is the Risian counterpart of Homo Sapien."

"Kelbron's?" Gibbs asks.

"I cannot rule it out. Abby will need to compare it with whatever the doctors collect."

Gibbs turns to Riker. "Well, Commander, this may or may not be your first break."

"May _not_ be?"

"We cannot prove it," Ziva says, "and 'human nature' may not hold much credence with Risians but consider: you have just murdered someone. How do you make your escape? Do you touch a door panel and then must wipe off your victim's blood, or do you–?" She taps her upper left chest above her badge, "Murderer to Enterprise, one to beam up."

"Works for me," Riker says, quite satisfied. Since one of his people would beam out, with far different words of course, the murderer who used the door to expose him or herself in public was not Starfleet.

"Not for me," Gibbs says. He comes up to Riker until their eyes are inches apart. "Mister Riker, you beamed up from Edaniya Kelbron's home and she's been found dead. Care to explain that?"

Riker takes a step back, disliking the aggressive closeness. "So the way out is still the door."

"We need proof one way or the other. I like 'human nature' as much as anyone, but as to exonerating one of your people, you can't prove a negative." He taps his gold, brown, silver and black badge which chirrups quietly. "DiNozzo, the perp carried traces of Kelbron's blood, possibly on his hand. Find it."

xx

In the bedroom, Worf and Michelle scan the room first with their eyes, then with tricorders. The huge Klingon Security Chief concentrates upon the vacant doorway and the two windows in the corner room while his petite companion focuses upon the bed and surrounding furniture. The windows maintain the same frequently seen motif, a large circular opening in the wood positioned at random, two equally random medium openings and numerous small ones which, not yet duplicated as far as they've found, allow air and light in but block views unless the observer is right by the portal.

"Nice plants," Michelle pointedly observes, seeing that the windows open to leaves.

Worf steps closer so he may see out the holes. "These are cultivated plants in large pots some two-thirds meter in diameter. The dirt surrounding them retains no obvious footprints, but I shall examine the area more closely from outside."

After a minute scanning the bed from all sides, Michelle puts the device into the elastic strip at her left hip and starts opening drawers and cabinets beside the bed and at the walls.

"I want to get a sense of our victim," she tells Worf.

"Of course," he tells her in a tone which says he'd been about the do the same thing.

The clothing she finds is all light and sheer, befitting a tropical environment which, in whatever passes for winter here, reportedly rarely drops below 70F. The clothes tend to run to blues and greens and capture the aquatic flavor present in the rooms; the large rug extending beyond the ends of the bed, the living room's rug and other decorations.

x

Going to the drawers beside the head of the bed she finds the top one contains only three items. There's a sonic massager, a bronze colored device designed to fit in the palm of the hand and extend into three curved nodules forward, right and left, meant to be passed about five centimeters over the skin, the sonic waves providing gentle vibration. There's another similar device, faintly rectangular, about seven by twelve centimeters and also contoured for the hand. The top and sides are smooth; the lower part pebbled with a single protrusion two thirds of the way up, slightly larger than the rest.

The last resembles a brown tribble, except it's clearly a mechanical device. Michelle picks it up and feels a gentle tingle in her palm. She runs the quasi-tribble along the back of her left hand and the energy raised from the slow movements raise the fine hairs, and when she moves it faster the tingling increases.

Worf steps over, inspecting the device with his tricorder. "It is generating an electrical field, presently 17 volts. The charge varies with movement."

She allows just the tips of the fur to touch her. "It makes my skin tingle." She moves the tribble slightly faster, distinctly feels the charge increase. It prickles along the back of her left hand and the charge makes her right palm tingle. She gives an experimental shake and yelps, quickly drops it onto the bed.

"It shocked me." She looks up at the mountainous Klingon, doesn't care for his 'well, what did you expect?' smile. "Okay." She cautiously touches, then picks up the furry device but its current is expended. She slowly moves it to the drawer and drops it in. This time the charge was barely noticeable. "What did you find?"

"The windows do open but there were no biological traces there or, for that matter, anywhere else in the room other than a single one. There are only two sets of fingerprints, right and left, which I believe the doctors will confirm to be Kelbron's."

"Same with the bed. Whoever killed her probably didn't come in that way or kill her on the bed."

"We have yet to determine where she was killed."

"You don't believe she was killed in the living room?"

"I shall when it has been proven."

xx

"Tim," Ziva calls her partner's attention to a desk set in the forward left outside the field of the original holographic view of the Crime Scene. The attempted interviews of neighbors had come to nothing for Tony and Tim, only one couple are in the house on the right and neither of them had heard or seen anything amiss, the galactic wide bane of Investigators. The house on the left is vacant so success or failure there is pending but she feels this might make it up.

"What've you got, Ziva?"

She's searching an open drawer and comes out with an isolinear chip, a rectangular device used for recording data.

"That the only one?"

"No, there are three." She takes the other two out. "And oh yes, you will need this." She passes him an Optical Recorder / Reader.

"Thank you, Ziva." Ignoring her smirk, he takes the ORR, slips the first rectangle into the small slot and activates the device.

Gibbs gives him twenty seconds, had expected a report long ago. "What is it, McGee?"

"Travelogue."

"What?"

"It's about Berengaria VII. Basically a tourist promotion." He pulls the chip, puts in another and reviews it for a few moments. "Rigel IV." He exchanges it for the last chip. "Cait."

"Interesting choices," Ziva grants. "Perhaps she was planning a vacation. I hope she likes cats."

Tim looks to the spot before the couch where her body had lain. "I hope she made it before this."


	8. Hearing, Seeing, Feeling

Chapter Eight  
>Hearing, Seeing, Feeling<p>

Within the Medical Facility's Stasis Room, walls and doorways softened by the ubiquitous wall hangings, even the metal doors which isolate each unit being framed by curtains held open by gold cords from the middle, the three Federation Doctors confer with the red clad Doctor Plinscart.

Ducky had denied earlier that he wanted to see the body of Edaniya Kelbron because he'd remembered an unpleasant encounter with a literalist colleague who'd been willing to let him see a cadaver but no more. He'd also wanted to break through the antipathy the young woman had for them, an abnormal - for Risians - attitude he's experienced too many times on this Investigation. He's grateful that this time amity has been achieved so quickly and well.

For Risians this room would have no use, as Risian custom calls for the burial of the deceased at the zenith of their moon, or 2120 in Federation Standard Time, the figurative midnight. But there are many races that require strict protocols to be observed regarding preservation of bodies prior to final disposition; the Ferengi for instance require precise identification of the deceased prior to desiccation and the sale of various portions of the body.

Under normal conditions, Edaniya Kelbron would be eight days in her grave, and the complications of exhumation and re-autopsy would mean that vast amounts of evidence and data would be lost. For that reason, preservation of the body had been an early - and vehemently contested - point.

x

Plinscart doesn't try to hide her displeasure as they look at the nude body upon the black table through the transparent aluminum semi-cylinder. Edaniya looks as though she's asleep save for the stark horizontal hole in the middle of her chest. "This is infamous."

"We assure you, madam, we shall treat her with all due respect and care."

"She's already been treated _deplorably_." She turns from the body to the intruders. "I conducted the autopsy last week. Edaniya was stabbed, which is what those who found her found obvious."

Beverly looks up from her examination of the four centimeter wide hole in the center of the young woman's chest, slightly more to the right of proper placement if the girl were human but precisely targeted for a Risian. "What was she stabbed with?"

"A _knife_."

x

Beverly can't blame the woman. Death by violence is virtually unknown on Risa, and is utterly unknown when the victim is a Risian. This is one of the reasons why emotions run so high, particularly against the crew of the Enterprise. Loss of life and the prosecution for it would be the affair of the race of the visiting victim. This time the victim is not a visitor, but under these circumstances, with the Enterprise having already departed once, Plinscart would probably have little reason to believe the killer would not be flown far out of reach.

Since they've never had to deal with violent, fatal assault, and certainly not the investigation of the same, among Risians the Forensic skills have never developed save in the purely academic awareness of what others would do. It has for so long been the custom of Risians to share all they have, first as hospitality and secondarily as need for a culture with no natural resources, that violence from a guest toward any one of them has long ago receded so far from their collective psyche that it's unthinkable.

Examinations Crusher would conduct as a matter of course in her own Investigation into a suspicious death or one brought about by violence, together with others these SCIS Medical Examiners will undoubtedly perform, would never occur to Plinscart, nor would she have the tools to pursue the examination even if she had the skills and the suspicious nature of a Criminal Investigator.

x

Ducky, regarding the body, must balance his sympathy for Plinscart and her grief over the loss of her friend by such atrocious violence with the requirements of his duty. The young woman had mentioned doing an autopsy, but she must have done it with little more than a tricorder, for there's no indication that the body has been examined internally. Kelbron still looks as much asleep as she had in the holo image provided to the Team before they'd left Delta III.

Eight days ago, in the period between the near midnight discovery of the body and the daytime holoimaging, lividity had set in. Now, to judge by the exclusion areas on her arms and legs, and what he can see of her sides past her not quite as closely placed arms, the young woman had indeed been found laying upon her back, her arms at her sides and her legs together, face placid as though she were slumbering.

Since she'd evidently been placed in stasis very shortly after being imaged, little had changed beyond that point. Due to a thorough tanning of her skin over her lifetime her flesh is not the bloodless white of so many corpses he's examined. In fact, the only notable colorless spot on her tanned flesh is the circular spot in the center of her forehead.

x

"Plin, may I ask a question?"

He can see she's considering saying 'no'. This may determine the future of their working relationship, at which times he doesn't intend to ask permission, so he hopes they may maintain their so recent accord.

"What is it?"

He indicates the circular emblem on Plinscart's forehead. The light blue disk is inscribed with a circling white line that starts not quite touching the top and circles left five quarters about, ending slightly inward of the initial line and pointing downward on the left side.

"The insignia you each wear, does it have a particular significance?"

Uncharacteristically, he hadn't given much inquiry to it on his previous visits to the planet, then having been distracted by other concerns.

"Of _course_ it does."

"I apologize."

This distracts her from her outrage. "For what?"

"For whatever has made you angry with me."

She considers, then shakes her head. "It's not what you've done. It's you humans murdering Daniy that makes me angry."

"Then we shall continue to work to bring her murderer to justice."

Left with nothing to feed her anger, she says "The citqual is a family sign. You can tell at a glance who is related to whom."

"Sort of like Arms?" Palmer speculates, completely mystifying the woman.

"He means an Earth custom of emblems upon clothing and other devices that performed much the same function."

"Oh."

"Where might the young lady's be?" It hadn't been on her forehead in the original Crime Scene hologram. The round patch where she'd worn her emblem is white skin surrounded by the tanned flesh both on the Crime Scene hologram and now. Had it been removed at death? Is that the Risian way?

"I _suppose_ the one who murdered her _stole_ it!"

"I do believe you may be correct." He sees she'd been ready for almost anything except immediate agreement. "It is not unknown for killers to collect souvenirs of their acts. That puts me in mind of something." He looks up to his assistant. "Doctor Palmer, you recall our colleague aboard the SS Verne. I think it would be most helpful to consult Arne Saknussenn. Would you mind setting that up with Agent Gibbs?"

"Of course, Doctor."

"Doctor Crusher, I think your input would be very helpful too."

x

There's much about this request that makes Beverly suspicious but she simply says "Of course" and follows the younger pathologist out into the hall. There, the faint sounds of birds can be heard through the distant open outer door. When the metal doors framed by split curtains held apart by ornate ropes slide closed behind them, she's less reticent about wanting to know "What's going on?"

"Well, if you're as well read as Doctor Mallard is and know ships' Registries, you know there's no SCIS Service Ship Verne any more than there's a Doctor Arne Saknussenn. But in Jules Verne's 'Journey to the Center of the Earth', his personal mark was left behind in various locations to guide later explorers. Everyone had to search for them." He pushes aside the open blue smock they each wear, touches his brown bald eagle over Federation laurel leaved star pattern badge and a brief chirrup comes from it. "Palmer to Chief Gibbs, I have a Class Five."

/Go./

'Not much for small talk,' Beverly thinks.

Correctly interpreting her expression, he drops his voice to the barest whisper. "Class Five is something bystanders shouldn't hear. If I could be overheard, he'd have told me to file it and his comm badge would record it." Resuming a normal volume, he says "Those forehead disks the Risians wear, a citqual, Kelbron's is still unaccounted for. Ducky thinks it might be a souvenir."

/Got it. That's all?/

"We're about to start the autopsy. We'll call if we find anything."

x

When there is no reply, Beverly assumes the call is terminated and it's already clear to her why Mallard sent her out with the younger man. She taps her own communicator. The Captain's in conference with the world leaders so "Crusher to Enterprise."

/Go ahead, Doctor./ Picard answers.

"Oh, I didn't know you were back aboard."

/The negotiations ended early./

She can tell from his tone that not only is he understating the point but that the conference didn't go well. She has the feeling she's not about to make his day. "It's possible that the killer may have taken the forehead emblem from Edaniya Kelbron. It's called a citqual. Searches both down here..." she hates to say it "and aboard the Enterprise are recommended."

/Noted, Doctor. Picard out./

She wonders if the man beside her could hear the irritation in Picard's voice as clearly as she had.

xx

"Well," Mallard says, setting the anachronistic black leather satchel onto the table beside him as Crusher and Palmer return, "shall we begin?"

Plinscart says nothing, and as they watch it's clear she's restraining herself from giving her preferred answer. Under orders, the red clad doctor cannot exercise her own authority or preferences. Her lips press together, grow tighter by the moment until finally she must force the words through.

"Very well." She turns from them and the traditional words are empty. "'All that is ours is yours'."

x

At the touch of a button, the clear semi cylinder opens closest to them on the body's right, rotates away into the black slab on Edaniya's left, leaving her uncovered on the platform.

The young woman appears about eighteen human years old but they already know she's closer to twenty in Risian years. Her hair is very light brown and arrayed in loose curls down to her shoulders. It is the only visible accumulation of hair on her body. They have her particulars at 1.68 meters and 51.71 kilograms and she appears to be in excellent physical condition other than the 4 centimeter horizontal wound in the middle of her chest.

Ducky gently raises her right eyelid. A lavender iris surrounds a black pupil not contracted. The cornea had begun to cloud before she'd been put into stasis.

"At what time was the young lady found?"

"2046 FST," Jimmy reminds him. "Risa's rotation is 21.3 Federation Standard hours."

"Makes it a little less than a half hour before local midnight." He gently lowers her eye lid and leans close to her. "Thank you," he says softly.

x

Beverly pulls from the waist pocket of her blue smock her tricorder, opens it, detaches the sensor wand and begins a scan from the top of the woman's head. When she gets past the wound between Edaniya's breasts, Ducky holds out his hands. "May I, Doctor?"

She's slightly surprised to note that neither Mallard nor Palmer carry tricorders of their own. They're wearing the traditional blue smocks over their blue uniforms but while she's seen empty equipment straps on the hips of their uniforms, nothing in their pockets pulls their smocks out of line. Since he'd asked to see hers, they apparently hadn't brought tricorders unless they're in the anachronistic black leather satchel upon the table.

She hands over the two parts of her tricorder. Mallard replaces the sensor wand, closes the unit and slips it into his smock's right hipside pocket. Now the material is pulled out of line.

"Thank you."

"Doctor?" While she can manage some protest in her tone, surprise prevents her from raising very much.

"Oh, not to worry, I shall return it in suitable time."

A glance at Palmer's eyes reveals he finds nothing unusual about this move.

x

"Autopsy, as you know, comes from an ancient Greek term meaning 'a seeing for oneself'. While a tricorder can, on occasion, be a moderately useful tool, it reports solely upon such things as it is designed to detect and analyze, making its use in space and with alien life marginally useful at best."

He indicates with a wave of his hand the nude body before them. "In conducting an autopsy, we first make use of the five natural senses, which are infinitely more comprehensive if not more adaptable. While a tricorder is useful for measuring and calculating and determining the realm of the ultra small, it is a tool of last resort after hearing, seeing, feeling and smelling - I _rarely_ advise tasting - have done their work. There is no substitute for the surety of knowledge obtained from personal and direct observation."

"I also use internal examination; after I've learned what the instruments show me."

"I ask you this time to try it this way. There is much to be learned from the tried and true methods, which is the reason why they have become tried and true.

"For instance, the psychology of the murderer is important if we hope to determine who performed this dastardly deed."

"Dastardly deed?" Plinscart looks as nonplussed as Beverly feels.

x

He turns to the Risian doctor. "This young woman, a product of her society and hence committed to a life of Service, was cut down late in the night. She was either laid out by her killer in the manner in which she was found _or_ an unknown person moved her body, presumably from the position upon which she fell to one of more dignified repose. But if she was moved, it had to be within the period between when death occurred and when lividity started to fix the blood in its current setting."

He returns his attention to Beverly. "The question is: if she was moved, was it by the one who found her after her murder or was it by the murderer himself?" He looks down to Edaniya, addressing her as he had the two living women. "That is something we must ask you to tell us, my dear."

Plinscart looks like she can't decide whether to be outraged or mystified. This conversation seems as much psychology as medicine, or perhaps parapsychology if the man had actually expected a reply. Beverly looks to Palmer until Mallard pulls her attention back.

"When we have determined and reported to our colleagues the 'how', they shall use that to attempt to determine the 'who'. But the more significant question, and often the hardest to answer, is 'why'."

"And you expect to be able to figure out why Daniy was killed?" Plinscart demands.

"With the young lady's assistance, indeed I do." He pulls from the black bag a very modern laser scalpel, positions it a centimeter below Edaniya's left shoulder. "My apologies, madam."

######

Author's Note: For those fen unfamiliar with metrics, Edaniya is 5'6" tall and weighs 114 Risian lbs.


	9. The Big Three

Chapter Nine  
>The Big Three<p>

The long hours of Investigation conclude for the principals in Enterprise-E's Holodeck 3 where Gibbs, Picard, DiNozzo, Riker, McGee, Data, Sciuto, Worf, David, Troi, Michelle Palmer and Cassidy stand in front of the white couch and listen to Dr. Mallard, flanked by Crusher and Jimmy Palmer, on the other side of the couch in Edaniya Kelbron's recreated living room.

Using the records collected today, integrated with the original Crime Scene hologram, the rendition of the morning's scene is as close as can reasonably be created, to the extent that the young woman's bloody body lays supine before the large white couch upon the aquatic carpet between the two groups, her head to the left of the larger group, in even more lifelike detail than it had had originally.

Light red blood still mars the blue and green interlocking design of her dress from upper chest to stomach, the wound a thin hole between her breasts. Her lavender eyes stare up, a particularly disconcerting sight, at the skylight through which the double light of the two suns streams onto her body. Her sheer, almost translucent dress isn't rumpled, her very light brown hair is neatly arrayed, her expression placid as though she'd merely fallen asleep upon the aquatic rug.

The split curtained front door beyond the trio of doctors is the 'updated' one, the formerly wiped clean silver panel beside it marked with blue smears which bring back to visibility the once light red blood.

An evidently comfortable chair to the gathered scientists' and officers' right centers a mini alcove defined by light curtains that back two large and well stocked book stands, all surrounded by numerous green plants and exotic multi-hued flowers, the scents of which are graciously if unnecessarily recreated by the computer. Several attractive and fragrant plants in baskets hang from chains in various parts of the room. The windows at the rear of the image are large, but rather than glass they contain a collection of circular holes through a thin wooden panel, one large hole in each, two medium size and many small circles, yet the patterns of circles are different for each window.

x

"The young lady's cause of death was, as has not been contested," Mallard explains, indicating the image of the body forward of the couch between the two groups, "punctures of the fourth and sixth chambers of her heart by a single incision of the horizontal wall dividing said chambers. The Risian heart, of course, has six chambers allowing for three arterial pathways to the brain, the third in the back of the neck as opposed to the human twin carotid arteries. This results in greater oxygen flow through the body, which no doubt contributes to their stamina. Unfortunately, in this case the evolutionary advantage worked against her."

"How?" Riker asks.

"The flow of reconstituted blood to the three arterial systems was cut off simultaneously when the heart stopped when it was incised. Risians, with their three pathways, are as dependent as humans are on blood flow maintained at an appropriate pressure. In most cases it is less likely all the arteries will be compromised, but in Miss Kelbron's case this did happen with the simultaneous loss of two chambers. Loss of blood pressure to the brain was catastrophic. She would certainly have been unconscious even before her body struck the floor. Death, if not immediate, would have taken perhaps as many as three seconds. Judging by the fact that her eyes were open, however, I am inclined to believe death was instantaneous, that she was dead before she fell."

"Do we know now what killed her?" Picard asks Crusher, but it's Mallard who answers.

"The manner of death is a double edged blade shaped like an isosceles triangle, at least 17.78 centimeters long and at least 4 centimeters wide. Bruising about the wound would hint at a slightly larger guard for the blade, but this is inconclusive."

"Were you able to determine anything about whoever did it?" Picard asks.

"From the angle of the wound, I estimate that her assailant was at least 12 centimeters taller than she is."

"Putting him or her at at least 1.8 meters," Riker concludes.

x

"What else did you learn?" Picard asks.

"She was busy," Palmer puts in.

"What my colleague wishes to convey," Mallard says in testy tone, "is that we found evidence that the young lady had relations with two individuals within the two days prior to her death."

"Two?"

"DNA analysis," Crusher takes over, "doesn't show when she was intimate with either man, and we're still working to separate the genetic material. I can't identify specifics yet. At this moment I can only tell you that there are two distinct patterns. It could have been someone from the Enterprise crew or not, but there is no record on file of DNA from the Risians nor any other guests."

"'Fraid that won't help either, Skipper," Gibbs says. "Not without being able to conclusively say who saw her alive last."

"If reasonable doubt can be established that the last person to see the woman was one of the Enterprise crew, that would assist in the negotiations."

"From what you tell us, the Risians aren't interested in 'reasonable doubt'," Gibbs counters. "They consider their decision that it was a human Enterprise crewman who killed her to be reasonable. In fact, they consider it the only reasonable conclusion."

"We can't even prove the killer had sex with her," Michelle says. "That's the Risians' decision."

"Captain," Crusher interjects, "it's impossible to determine with absolute certainty the sequence of who was intimate with her when."

"But surely, Doctor–."

"Humans and Risians, despite appearances, are not biologically compatible. A Risian woman cannot conceive from a human male, nor do the enzymes in her body break down human sperm as would take place in a human woman, which is immediate upon sexual intercourse. Unlike in a Risian to Risian pairing, the Risian body simply does not recognize human genetic material."

"This destruction of such cells in like physiologies is why conception is more of a race or well timed accomplishment than people realize. If not for those enzymes that start destroying male reproductive cells from the moment of intercourse, every woman would have a 100% prospect of becoming pregnant each time she had intercourse."

"So Kelbron would feel no particular need to..."

"No, she wouldn't."

He's grateful she hadn't obliged him to be explicit.

"The only thing I can tell you about her sexual activity," Crusher says, "is that while we cannot say with 100% certainty that she's never been pregnant, we're certain she has never given birth."

"What else did your examination reveal? Can you use the temperature when she was found or the settling of blood to establish a time?"

x

"With a Risian at this stage of our medical knowledge of their biology," Ducky says, again taking the lead, "we cannot isolate a time, but rather of a range. Or rather, we might had anyone bothered to determine her core temperature at the time she was first found. Furthermore, given the hours between when her body was discovered and the holoimage indicates the Investigation - such as it was - had taken place we would be left only with the ambient temperature of the room countered by the light of two suns shining upon her body," he indicated the image before them.

"Contrary to popular misconception, there is no more an established rate of progress even among humans than among other species. The rate of core temperature loss in humans is known but that is affected by ambient temperature as well as numerous other factors. We have no reliable figures on Risians, so even if I knew the core and ambient temperatures at the time her body was found I could not give you an adequately accurate range of time.

"Using core temperature loss as the sole indicator of time of death for humans, I can give a reliable time as a four hour range at best, but with Risians I cannot be even that specific without more information than the Risians are, at this point, willing the share."

x

Beverly has not challenged Ducky's usurping of answers, nor would she try to challenge their length or detail. He evidently feels well established in his role as primary ME, something Crusher, as the one addressed, could challenge. If their patient were living she would claim primacy, particularly in the questions directed to her by her Captain, but since the patient is dead she does not.

"We speak in established generalities and then use other determinations to assist in establishing the facts. For instance, livor mortis starts to fix in a human from approximately twenty minutes to three hours, depending upon several factors, all of which must be taken into consideration, progresses over four to five hours and reaches maximum anywhere from six to twelve hours after death.

"After that there is no further change in the blood," the Forensic Pathologist winds down his explanation. "It has broken through the decaying cellular membranes of the arteries, veins and capillaries and stained the flesh.

"However, due to the limited medical information we do have on Risian physiology and what happens to them when they die, we lack sufficient information with which to make accurate projections."

"In other words, you don't know."

"Correct."

x

He's glad of the short answer, and sees in the expressions of the man's colleagues that this is type of pedantic presentation is not uncommon for the good doctor. Listening to his answers in a Court of Law must be interesting, as Expert Witnesses are exempt from 'yes' and 'no' constraints, but this late afternoon short answers are preferable. "So when she was killed, she was perhaps laid flat upon her back," Picard says, particularly focusing his point to Crusher. "Any significance of the placement of the body?"

"I'd say it indicates care for her," Crusher says, "as opposed to just leaving her how she fell when she was killed."

x

"Do we know yet who found the body?" This is one on the myriad details excluded from the few and uninformative reports.

"No." DiNozzo had been quiet to this point, absorbing the details. Now his tone speaks for his entire team.

"Where was her grandfather at that time?"

"He was in Cintara rather than in his home in Gotram, 31 kilometers away. Apparently he was in town for a meeting of the Council. He was seen in the atrium near the Council Chamber late that evening, but of course no one noted or shared a time. But there's no information on when he got to the girl's place.

"The only fact we have is that whoever it was who found her did so at 2046, or less than a half hour before local midnight."

The Deputy Chief sounds particularly disgusted and Gibbs seconds the view. "This whole case has been mishandled from the first minute. We don't know who found her or what he or she did. We don't know if the body was moved, destroying uncountable clues. The Crime Scene was compromised by over two dozen unidentified people traipsing in and out. The body was probably moved out of meaning from when she died but it was taken from the scene before any competent person could see it, and if we hadn't blistered subspace she'd have been buried by the next midnight. Evidence wasn't preserved. Witnesses, if any, weren't identified and weren't properly interviewed and memories have had a week to blur and change. Official information came in piecemeal during negotiations by subspace radio to the Council or to our Command..."

There's little point in continuing the atrocious litany

xxx

The ship's ambient lighting has dimmed to evening and Jimmy and Michelle Palmer dine together in Ten Forward, this time at a starboard table. Ever since the ubiquitous use of replicators, choices of food have expended vastly from previous centuries and their selections of New England Lobster and Castillian Beefsteak reflect their freedoms. Now, meals complete, and since last night the Agents had been hosted at the Captain's table, they're wondering if ship's etiquette is for them to clear their own table back to the bar or await one of the two attendants when Jimmy, his face illuminated by the three quarters Risa at the huge port windows, turns to her. "Darling?"

"Yes, sweetie?" She realizes too late that she should've been warned by his expression if not his tone. She'd grown complacent and careless over the pleasant meal and a distant mission and now she's a captive victim.

"What do you call society on Janus VI?"

'Oh, _no_.' "I don't know," she admits, praying he'll be merciful.

"Horta culture."

She shifts from her chair opposite him to the one on her right, leans close and tries to make her whisper sound more like an offer than a plea. "Shut up and kiss me."

He does and its very nice, but she can tell from his lips that she's not getting him out of the mood, that he's not done abusing her. It's a pity she can't make the kiss last the duration of the mission, for as she pulls away she sees her fate in his eyes and steels herself for the inevitable.

"You know, honey, I just don't understand you," he says.

This surprises her. "Why not?"

"I've told you ten puns so far today to make you laugh but no pun intended."

She winces, then sighs. "All right. One more try. See what you can do."

"What do you say when your companion abandons you on Risa?"

'Great, a topical one.' "I don't know." 'I really do say that a lot.'

"Horga'hn."

x

She actually feels her expression fall, then feelings that have nothing to do with pleasure or tolerance flare. "_That's _in poor taste."

She gathers their plates and glasses, drops their utensils into the latter with loud tinkles and carries the stack away, not caring who noticed the noise as she heads for the bar, deposits the dining ware on the edge, hoping her expression will discourage questions.

She starts for the wooden exit doors across the large room but notices to her right, backlit by the planet where the binary suns not set over Cintara, Ziva and Paula by their blue uniforms at a long table with Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi. Fortunately there's space at the table because she hadn't wanted to make a grand exit, preferring to leave Jimmy time to redeem himself - if he can this time.

x

Crossing the room, she steps up behind a vacant chair. "May I join you?"

"Of course," Crusher says, the other women equally welcoming but she reads in Troi's face as she sits down a measure of concern. Troi's facing the starboard side of the room and she glances back only long enough to see Jimmy watching her. She sees in the other women's eyes the same budding thought as she settles herself. "He's in a 'time-out'," she explains.

"Oh?" Ziva asks.

"He's punning."

"Ohhhh." The Proxima Vegan Guardian looks to their companions. "Jimmy Palmer's puns are legendary."

"The worst," she emphasizes.

"The last time he got on a roll, a nearby G2 star went nova just to get out of its misery."

Crusher smiles. "Like Data at his start trying to tell jokes."

Troi smiles. "Were he here, his first observation would be," she switches to a credible imitation, "'G Class stars do not possess sufficient mass to initiate nova'."

Paula, who hasn't spent more than this mission with any of H-Alpha 7, doesn't turn her head but shifts only her eyes to look across the room and feels she should extend some support for her forlorn colleague. "Is he really that bad?"

"He drove me away with only three."

"That is a new low," Ziva admits.

"Come on," Paula scoffs. Michelle hits her with the Janus VI one. "I've heard worse. What were the others?"

"You _don't_ want to know," she says, having no intention of repeating the last, ever. She glances to the last empty chair to change the subject and because she hasn't seen the woman in hours. "Where's Abby?"

"In her Cloister," Ziva replies.

"Not you _too_! I'll go stark raving mad if I have to hear another one tonight."

"She is analyzing the evidence."

"Poor dear." The worst thing she can imagine, short of a full barrage of her husband's puns, is to be trapped in a lab all evening, especially with the vacation spot of the galaxy right beside the orbiting Starship. However, it's in that environment that her friend thrives.

"She loves it," Ziva assures their companions. "I believe that if she had an easy evening with nothing to analyze she would go 'stark raving mad'."

"To each her own," Crusher observes.

x

There's a long moment of silence and each woman knows the cause though no one wants to address it. They reside in the middle of a compelling mystery, yet they've lived in it for too long, hours for the Enterprise crew and days for the agents and they have no wish to revisit it on their free time. The issue has so consumed them that after a full day together they're still two separate groups, Starfleet Officers strangers to SCIS Agents. Eyes flick covertly to Paula, the only one capable of bridging the gap, but after three years as Enterprise-D and -E's SAS she's closer to the Starship's crew and a stranger to Ziva and Michelle.

"All right," Michelle declares, determined to break the ice, "'Most Embarrassing Moment'."

"You mean other than this?" Ziva counters.

"With a guy."

"All right," Crusher says, "I'm up for that." It's part of several Federation and Starfleet records plus hers and who knows how many other Personal Logs, so the story is old news.

The four give her rapt attention as she lowers her voice so nothing will spill over to the nearby tables. "It was 6 years ago when I met, and fell passionately in love with, a Trill, the first I'd ever heard of. His name was Odan and he was a Federation Ambassador. At the beginning I didn't know it was the Symbiont that had been an Ambassador for several host generations; I was heels over head over the man."

"Heels over head?" Michelle has never heard the phrase turned around.

"Picture it."

"I _can_," she assures the lovely redhead.

"Well, there was an accident and that became my introduction to Joined Trills. Turned out the Symbiont couldn't survive long enough for a new Host to come from Trill so I had no choice when Will Riker volunteered to be a temporary host. So here's Will with every memory of Odan and I, and he still loved me, and I found I still loved him - though I couldn't tell just where Will ended and Odan began."

"Bet I can guess," Paula grins salaciously.

"Well, anyway, there was Will Riker swearing his undying love for me and me doing the same and at slow but not very steady boil over a man I'd known for years as a brother. I held it together, though, until one insane night..."

"Oh, no!" Paula exclaims, reading Troi's eyes.

"Did you _do_ it?" Michelle asks.

"Until it _hurt_!" she admits, hiding her face in her hands, but then brings the defense down. "But that wasn't the worst."

"If a wear-out night with Will Riker can compare to a 'worst' anywhere," Paula says, "what can it be?"

"The new Host arrived but I was too worn out-"

"I will just bet," Ziva grins.

"From a tense day of keeping him alive," she insists. "Humans and Trill are not compatible."

"He seemed pretty compatible with you," Troi teases. "At least his human parts."

"You should know."

"Ooooooooo," from the three Agents.

"So I had Dr. Selar scheduled do the surgery and I was thinking about the new Host and what he'd be like and what things were going to be like when he wasn't Will Riker but with the memories of what I'd done with Odan's first host and with Will. My daydreams were going so well until the door opened and _she _walked in."

"Oh NO!" Michelle cries.

"What did you do?" Ziva asks.

x

"Honey?" Michelle hears from behind her right shoulder and looks back and up. "I'm sorry," Jimmy says, looking and sounding utterly miserable. "Please forgive me?"

She knows it takes a vast amount to come up and make a personal admission and plea before friend and strangers, but she considers for a teasing moment. "Let me think about it," she says, turning from him so he won't see her smile.

"Come on," Ziva urges. "Forgive him."

"I don't know..." she says, having a harder time keeping her lips steady.

"How can you stay mad at that?" Paula asks.

"He's like a lost puppy," Crusher observes.

"Puppy," she scoffs. "Rabid bull terrier, more like. You don't know him."

"Please, honey, I'll do anything."

She must bite her lower lip until she can turn back without a smile. "Anything?"

"Anything. I swear!"

"You _really_ want to make it up to me?"

"Yes!"

She looks to the other women, but they're not trying to disguise their smiles. She half hates to miss the rest of the recollections but she's sure she'll have a good story to bring to the next segment. She turns back up to her desperate husband. "Then take me to our quarters and I'll _show_ you how you can make it up to me."

Before he can react to his good fortune, she turns to her smiling friends and leans in close, her whisper very low. "If you hear screaming..." she winks, "ignore it."

xxx

Several long hours later Picard sits in the quiet of his Ready Room, using the opportunity to think. There's time now to try to put the odd jigsaw puzzle of the day into some semblance of order, harder to do than usual as the pieces which should meld together don't link.

He reaches out to the Intercom switch on his desk. "Picard to Cassidy."

There's no immediate answer and the computer, after fifteen seconds, will repeat the hail at her current location until it's answered. Before the third repetition the woman's voice, sounding heavy with sleep, responds.

"Yes, Captain?"

He looks at the chronometer readout on the lower right of the monitor before him, realizing with a touch of chagrin that while he may have difficulty sleeping at 0134, the other members of Alpha Shift may not have such trouble.

"Sorry to wake you," he says, regretting that he cannot now simply tell her 'never mind, go back to sleep'.

"It's okay, I had to get up to answer the intercom."

The hoary joke only emphasizes his unretractable faux pas. "Please report to my Ready Room."

"Be right there," rides a poorly disguised yawn.

x

While he waits Picard reflects upon his reason for calling the woman and half wondering if it could have waited for true morning. Paula Cassidy is not officially a member of the Enterprise crew, but though her duty and loyalty - and her Chain of Command - are to the SCIS she is not strictly and only part of that civilian group either.

In a sense she's a hybrid, answerable to both him and Gibbs, but she has been Special Agent Shipboard aboard the Enterprise for three years, two aboard Enterprise-D with a stint on the Lexington while this Enterprise was being constructed. He understands that's an unusually long tenure as far as SAS assignments go. To maintain the objectivity her duties demand, one year is usually the standard, so her reassignment to the new Starship but with much the same crew had been unusual.

He can certainly appreciate her desire to remain aboard what he modestly considers the finest ship in the fleet, but in this case might her familiarity become as much a detriment as an advantage?

Nonetheless, she has a unique view of both the Enterprise and the SCIS, and right now he needs that viewpoint.

x

When she enters wearing civilian clothes rather than the blue uniform, and takes the offered seat, he sees her exhaustion in her bloodshot eyes and imperfectly brushed blonde hair. "How may I help, Captain?" 'And then get back to bed' is unsaid but comes through clearly. She fights back a yawn and he determines to make this as brief as possible.

He should be in bed too.

"I need your insight, and I want you to be completely honest with me, no matter where that may lead."

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you believe anyone on this ship could kill?"

"Yes."

x

He tries not to react to this with the outrage he feels at the instantaneous response. He'd said he wanted the truth, now he must deal with it. "Who, for instance?"

"You're the first." Into his speechless stare, she says "Captain, do you not mean 'is someone here capable of murdering an inoffensive young woman'?"

"Yes, of course." His thought was right, he should have left this for morning, but in the morning Gibbs and his agents, as well as his own Command crew, will be about, the investigation resumed and he wouldn't have much time for an uninterrupted conversation.

As it stands, he knows this woman is duty bound to report every word that passes between them to Gibbs. He doesn't care.

x

"Captain, cold blooded murder, or hot blooded in the throes of any number of different kinds of passion, are acts that take a certain mindset. Now while restricted to the ship I've studied all the evidence - such as we have - in this case, and I don't believe there was an excess of passion in this murder. The single wound, the positioning of the body, they point to a determined killer and one with a connection to the victim. That's particularly played up in how her body was arranged.

"I think that here we're dealing with a very unsophisticated killer, rather than one who has known violence. I can hardly believe that someone who's gone through Starfleet Academy could commit so amateurish a murder."

For an instant Picard thinks this is more a dig at the type of person Starfleet Academy puts out than that it might possibly be a way of expressing her thanks for the early morning wake-up. Then his own fatigue loosens its hold and he understands her point.

"A sophisticated person," he concurs, "one who has been to many worlds and experienced uncounted situations of violence, would not stab a person, then arrange her body and leave the corpse to be found in her own living room."

"Certainly not when a phaser can thoroughly resolve the matter of evidence. Vaporize the knife, vaporize the body in fact, don't even use a knife. It might be some time before she was particularly missed."

"She was left to be found by her people immediately after we left simply as a way of implicating Starfleet."

x

"In investigating crimes of any sort," Cassidy says almost pedantically, "we have to satisfy as many of the Big Three as we can: Motive, Method and Opportunity. Method is settled, a knife blade or some other cutting implement through her heart. Opportunity, it was minutes before local midnight when she was found, the neighbors Agents DiNozzo and McGee interviewed were asleep.

"This is a tourist culture; strangers come and go and Risians meet strangers every day, take little to no particular notice. Private residences generally aren't locked, the only ones who lock their doors are visitors. Some Risian homes don't even have locks. The common method of transportation on Risa is walking, someone walking in or out of an unlocked residence simply wouldn't be noted. Kelbron's home does have a lock, an electronic panel beside the door but of course we haven't even been told if the house was locked or not, yet another example of the Risians' generosity with information on the crime.

"I reviewed the Ziva's tricorder analysis of the lock. It keeps no record of use; it's simply touch on, touch off.

"Literally anyone could walk into Edaniya Kelbron's home, stab her and leave without drawing suspicion. Further, while a Starfleet person, or anyone at all from the Enterprise might have been seen and possibly remembered," she spreads her hands, "which would, of course, have settled the matter immediately and we'd be looking for someone who fit the description, it's my belief we should be looking for an unidentified and perhaps unnoticed Risian."

"Do you have any proof to support that theory?" It's his favorite one by far but he needs more to counter the Risians' general assumption that one of his crew murdered the woman.

x

"Not yet, but it brings us to my favorite of the Big Three: Motive. I went over everyone who went down to Risa, the whole ship's complement, myself included though for me, even on Risa, the rest starts when I get back.

"I compiled records based upon the number of times a person ever set foot on Risa, whether part of this crew or otherwise. Crewman Greene, the only one we've interviewed per Deputy Chief DiNozzo's direction–"

"Why?"

"I don't believe he believes anyone here did it. He and CSO Worf have been interviewing neighbors and anyone else who might know anything, but any he's found had been asleep, and there are several homes that he can't track the residents of.

"However, Greene has been to Risa twice but the other time he was about six thousand kilometers away."

x

"The times I've visited Risa the locations were very distant from one another," Picard says. "This is the first time I've been to the same place twice."

"That's pretty much the norm for a planet whose entire Temperate Zone is devoted to the Hospitality Industry. It is literally the largest occupation by region that I have ever seen.

"Further, on reviewing the Personal Logs of the crew and passengers, this visit has been remarkably uneventful. In fact, you and Commanders Riker and Worf are the only ones who have _ever_ had what can be called 'notable incidents', and all of those occurred on other visits to other parts of the planet."

x

Mind half on the chronometer displayed on his monitor, Picard presses "You point, Agent?"

"Captain, the Risians as a species are among the most inoffensive, most affable in the galaxy. Excluding psychopaths and I've found none on this ship, it takes a very great deal of motivation to murder such a person.

"Method: So far no one has found the knife, and discounting for now something specially designed or broken off from a whole, a careful Inventory has identified nothing aboard Enterprise that fulfills the parameters of something that can make such a wound.

"Opportunity: Only a small number of people were in a position where they could have met the woman, and those few who were in the area were so for their first times last week for 40 hour R&Rs. Many of the ship's complement beamed down to the central site and then scattered in a 50 kilometer radius. The crew's mere presence in Cintara as the central point is the greatest measure of circumstantial Opportunity and is no indicator of guilt.

"Motive: To the best of my research, no one aboard this ship has a reason to murder Edaniya Kelbron."

######

Author's Note: For those fen not familiar with the metric system, the blade that killed Edaniya was at least 7 inches long and 1.6 inches wide.


	10. Kitaal

Chapter Ten  
>Kitaal<p>

Commander Data, Second and Science Officer of the Enterprise, never needs to sleep. As an android, he is capable of continuous operation twenty four hours per day with no notable decrease of efficiency. He is capable of a form of sleep, though he finds no useful purpose in the inactivity. He can dream, but rarely does so unless the act is intentional and serves a purpose. Fatigue is something he knows only as an abstract concept, while exhaustion the purely physical loss of motive power, the solution to which is normally a simple matter.

He has observed, however, that the humans and representatives of other races with whom he deals do not share these traits. Indeed, while the needs of the crew vary as widely as do their species. Vulcans, for instance, are able to maintain full mental if not physical efficiency for up to eighty FS hours before they begin to experience deleterious effects. Generally humans, for full mental efficiency, must maintain a 70/30 measure of activity to rest. While they are capable of exerting themselves for several FS days, their mental acuity diminishes steadily after about an 85/15 rate and then they experience rapid decline of mental acuity until they reach a rate of 93/7, at which point they, to use the human vernacular, collapse.

This is why, when he enters Science Lab 7 in response to a summons, he experiences a momentary sensation his friend Geordi LaForge would characterize as surprise.

x

Doctor Abigail Sciuto has, so far as he knows, and this is verified by internal sensors and records of door usage which require only point zero two nanoseconds to determine, spent a total of six hours, twenty two minutes, fifty one point four two seven nine seconds inside her assigned quarters; three hours, forty nine minutes, eleven point eight one three seven seconds in Ten Forward where she consumed her meals; fifty one minutes, thirty two point eight two nine five seconds in Holodeck Three for the Briefing in the recreation of the Kelbron home; forty three minutes, seventeen point eight six nine three seven eight two seconds at the initial conference when she had boarded and the balance of her time aboard Enterprise in this Lab.

There is no occasion noted when at least one instrument within has not been in use. More often, several instruments have been recorded as being in simultaneous use.

However, despite a sensor confirmation obtained when she and her companions boarded that she possesses no genes from any race other than Earth origin human, despite records indicating her having been born on and hailing from Epsilon Hydra VII, she appears to have suffered none of the deleterious effects humans are prone to from such extended hours of continuous operation.

She wears the blue on blue two piece uniform over blue boots, the only distinguishing features being the gold shield above her left breast, the bald eagle above and with brown wings extended downward to shield on both sides the silver and black laurel and star pattern of the Federation, as well as the silver 'lines and dots' molecular symbol upon the right side of her high collar.

"You sent for me?" he inquires politely.

"DATA!" she exclaims with what he would usually attribute to the emotion of pleasure, perhaps to a degree characteristic of delight. "How ARE you?"

"My condition does not change appreciatively with the passage of brief intervals, which I perceive to apply markedly to yourself as well."

"I never sleep when there's work to be done," she says, and while he could counter that this cannot entirely true, he has learned from his long conversations with Geordi - and others - that such observations are sometimes not conducive to harmonious working relationships.

x

She takes a significant draw from a large beverage container, but her reaction seems equal parts pleasure and disappointment. "I give computers from Arcturus to here the chemical formula each time I make some progress and can never get it right."

"Perhaps you are not giving the complete formula."

She sets the container down. "I know I'm not. There's still a secret ingredient I can't identify. Anyway, I can't get the real thing off Earth. Still, I'll break it someday and then I'll save myself two thousand Credits a year."

"Doctor, I fail to understand how an analysis of the beverage could fail to determine its full molecular structure, allowing exact replication."

"Molecular analysis is cheating. I do it by taste testing. Anyway, that's not why I called you in."

"Yes, Doctor."

"I've been examining the Evidence as quickly as it can come up to me or get recorded on the computer and I think I've found something, but I need you to check my results before I bring it to Gibbs."

"And the Captain."

"Huh?"

"And the Captain."

"Oh. Yeah. Him too."

x

"What did you find, Doctor?"

"Two things. Well, maybe three things. No, two things."

Data wonders if his evaluation of her mental acuity was accurate. He has noted one of the indicators of human mental fatigue is a decreasing ability to focus upon a single thought. They become 'flighty', as Wesley Crusher would be wont to observe were he aboard. "Doctor, what two things?"

"Well, no, actually one thing, I've got the others covered. Tricky though it was, I've identified Dr. John Miller, one of your physicists, as definitely the last Enterprise crewman to spend any time exercising with her. But that was about fifteen hours before she died and he was not her last companion."

"Doctor Crusher was of the opinion that it was impossible to determine with absolute certainty the sequence of men who had had sexual intercourse with Edaniya Kelbron."

"Never say the word 'impossible' to me, Data, I take it as a personal challenge. I stand by my findings: She was placed in stasis after she and the Crime Scene were holoimaged, John Miller was the last one from Enterprise to have sex with her, but he was not the last _person_ to have sex with her. In fact, he had his good time with her about fifteen hours before she died."

"Are you certain, Doctor?"

Her shoulders crash and the look she gives him cannot be called affable. "No, Data, I spent the last two days in this lab so I could throw out a wild guess."

"Then perhaps you are correct."

"What about?"

"When you said I should verify your results."

x

She regards him as though uncertain if she should incorporate as much verbal outrage into her next statement as she had her former one, but apparently changes her mind. "No, Data, I'm good on sperm. I've eliminated all doubt. I wanted you to check _this_."

She leads him to a table upon which rests a large, transparent sample case, within which is the folded and medium red dried blood covered sheer translucent dress. He had last seen the garment of green and blue interlinking curves in the Holodeck recreation.

"I can't take it out because the trace evidence is too trace, but there are blue bits of fabric, finer than Earth silk and not of the same material as the dress, on the back up at the collar. I say silk because they're definitely a biological construct rather than synthetic, so I want to be very careful of contamination, even android contamination," she finishes, pointing to the cuff of his uniform sleeve.

"That is a wise precaution, Doctor."

She points to a monitor screen where the magnified images of the material are displayed. "They're all pointing in the same direction, almost half of them microscopic but all of them driven into the material of the dress' collar, though with a greater density on her right. I think she was wearing something over the dress, something pulled off so violently it embedded fibers into the material, all pointing right."

"I noted nothing on the planet that would satisfy those parameters."

"Well, we'd better find it fast," she declares, "before I go to Gibbs and your Captain, because as sure as these fibers are pointing right, the rest of whatever it is is going to point straight to Edaniya Kelbron's killer."

xxx

At 0659 Data escorts Dr. Sciuto, who carries a large, thin square black case hanging from a shoulder strap to her hip, onto the bridge. He escorts her in consideration of the Captain's dislike for visitors invading this sanctum, something the man has already had to tolerate with Investigators Gibbs' and DiNozzo's too frequent visits, too few of them by invitation.

But he halts by the turbolift, finding the screen displaying an enlarged image of First Councilor Sumnar. Gibbs and DiNozzo are also present, standing beside Picard, the younger man perhaps unconsciously mirroring Commander Riker's position on the Captain's right.

"In that case, First Councilor Sumnar," Picard says in concluding tones, "I look forward to meeting with you. We shall beam down in twenty Risian minutes. Enterprise out."

When the image disappears, Data steps forward. "Captain, Doctor Sciuto and I request permission to beam down to the Kelbron residence."

"Why?"

"To gather additional evidence."

Sciuto looks to Gibbs. "I found some things overnight and need to see what I can find there."

Gibbs defers to Picard, who returns to his conversation with Data. "Make it so."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs says, "supervise."

"Right, boss."

"Number One. Supervise."

"Yes, sir."

xxx

When Riker, DiNozzo, Data and Sciuto materialize in Edaniya Kelbron's home the lights are off and, being still a few minutes short of local dawn, little light comes in through the randomly holed windows. Nonetheless, several species of birds are already awake, their varied songs coming to the visitors through the glassless portals about them.

The walls of the house are softened by curtains, some of which overlap at various angles, all of shades of blue, green or white.

The house, though filled with plants that provide living scents and pleasant colors, eschews the atmosphere and ambiance of the public places and uses modern electric lighting. In seconds this comes to life in response to the motion of four bodies. The now well illuminated living room is unchanged from yesterday and Abby goes directly to the spot on the blue / green faux aquatic carpet before the white couch in the room's near center where, according to the initial holographic record, the body had lain.

She uses her tricorder on the carpet until she zeros in on a particular spot about half a meter short of the left side of the couch. She kneels down for a closer examination. "Yes!"

x

As Riker, DiNozzo and Data watch, she sets down flat to her right the case she'd carried, opens it and pulls out a monitor screen thirty centimeters square. She holds the device over the rug, activates it and the screen shows the blue green fiber. "Yes." Holding down a button, she steadily enlarges the view until the individual woven fibers are huge on the screen. "Yes. Yes. _Yes_. YES. _YES_!"

"Doctor," Data ventures. "Shall we take it that your vocalizations mean you have found more samples of the fabric you seek?"

"Data, you may take anything you want but yes, I did." She tilts the screen and lowers a side so they may see the fine blue fibers trapped in the much larger material of the rug. "Here and to the right."

She stands up. "She was laying here and some-"

The split curtained front door on the other side of the couch opens. "Who's in here?" a feminine voice, high, apprehensive and outraged demands.

x

The quartet turns to the front door where, two steps up, a young woman wearing a green bikini under a hip length transparent shirt stands. Her auburn hair is slightly windblown, partially obscuring the circular emblem on her forehead, a line that comes from the bottom, turns left and curves upward to exit in the upper right quadrant, but it's the suspicious, violated and aggravated expression, not at all the Risian norm, that's striking.

"What are you people doing in here?" she demands. "You're not supposed to be here!"

Riker holds his hands up to her. "We're from the Starship Enterpr–"

"Federation! Get _out_ of here, _murderers_!"

"If we could simply explain–"

"Get _ou_–!"

Abby Sciuto, closest to the woman on the other side of the white couch, is on her feet, her hands clasped together. "Please, I need your help." The plea, delivered with stunning sincerity, makes her hesitate. "Unless you help, I'll never be able to go home again."

x

Blinking, confused, outrage overcome by the appeal and a lifetime of habit, the quintessential Risian hostess rises to the fore. "How can I help you?"

"My friends and I are trying to find out what happened to Edaniya Kelbron and to see that her killer is caught and punished. To do that, we need you to help us."

Anger now completely shorted, the woman, apparently of an age with Edaniya, needs a few moments to orient, then she allows the door behind her to slide almost soundlessly shut. "I'll help you."

x

Now that the atmosphere is far calmer, if still slightly confused, Riker conducts the introductions and the girl steps down upon the level. "I'm Kitaal Sheun."

"You're Edaniya Kelbron's friend," Abby says, still trying to establish a connection. That she's not in a Starfleet uniform and is a woman both appear to help.

"How do you know that?" Sheun challenges with renewed suspicion but Abby smiles.

"Her enemy wouldn't throw us out."

"I suppose not," she admits, then visibly comes to a decision. "All right, I'll trust you - for now. What do you need me for?"

"Miss Sheun," Tony asks, "how well did you know Miss Kelbron?"

"Much better than you did," she chides, but it's softened by a smile. "'Miss' is an Earth title and, except for some people, we don't use titles. She was Edaniya, I'm Kitaal. Actually, I knew her as Daniy," she says with the double 'e' similar to her own double 'a'.

"What should I know you as?" he asks with an ingratiating smile.

"Find out after you tell me who killed Daniy." It's not quite a rejection, more a imposition of delay. Even in grief, the Risian conditioning is strong, but it does refocus the man more effectively than his companions' looks.

"We know virtually nothing of Edaniya," Riker admits, "which is severely hindering our Investigation. Anything you can tell us about her would help."

He doesn't need to activate any recording device to share information with those aboard the Enterprise. Commander Data can reproduce any conversation, using the voices of the participants.

x

"We've been friends for years," she says in tones heavy with grief and loss. She visibly tries to push it back into a private place but doesn't succeed. "I live right next door - that's how I noticed the lights were on."

"We tried to interview you yesterday," DiNozzo says.

"I was with my family." Her tone this time says to the Investigators that it was a retreat, a way of dealing with close loss by wrapping herself in the safety of hearth and home. "I came back last night." She looks about the house and "too soon" is a private whisper.

"What can you tell us about her?" Riker asks.

Kitaal tries once, twice, then tells a fact instead of a feeling. "She loved to sew, to weave; she created the most beautiful fabrics. She was the best cloth artist that I've ever seen." She fights emotion back again, but it's harder this time, and when she can say anything again it's in a hushed whisper strangled by tears she won't shed. "Always for everyone. She'd give away everything she made. All anyone had to do was to say they liked something she'd made and it'd be a present."

Tears almost break through, she clamps her hand over her mouth to silence the grief and no one presses her. In the quiet, the birdsongs floating through the glassless, circle panel windows hint at a calm and beauty painfully absent within this house. It's like for Kitaal this had been a place of joy and would never be such again.

When she can lower her hand, her control is more fragile.

x

"She favored the sea?" Abby asks. It's not a stretch considering the house's decor.

"Loves it. Loved it," she corrects, fighting back grief again, losing more self control each time. Riker doesn't need his Betazoid Counselor to see how near to shattering the girl is.

She scrubs at her eyes, which they'd noted are the rich color of fresh limes, waves her hand across the blue / green seascape carpet that fills the center of the room from a half meter behind and to each side of the white couch to a meter and a quarter before it. "She made this, took her almost two years to get it right." No one will mention it's where she lay when she'd been stabbed.

"She used to laugh because I wouldn't walk on her artwork, but I just couldn't. She said carpets are for... for walking on." She turns away, her breath heavy and the Investigators take the opportunity for their own silent communication, possible for people who have worked for many years at covert communications.

When Kitaal has regained control she turns slowly, but her eyes are on the rug, probably seeing vast numbers of scenes she can't express.

"She also said I liked it more than anyone else she knew," she says softly with trembling voice, likely remembering many conversations with her friend. "I never said anything, knowing she'd move the couch, roll it up and lug it over. But she knew. That's why she was going to give it to me when she emigrated."

x

"Excuse me?" DiNozzo needs to halt this recollection. "Emigrate? She was leaving Risa?"

Kitaal looks up, and in her eyes they see surprise, as though she hadn't realized she'd revealed it, especially to alien strangers. "Yes. In three months. All the arrangements are made," she insists almost defensively.

"Where was she going?" He recalls the three Travelogues found in her drawer. Then they'd been taken to be Vacation plans; now they take on far greater significance.

"She's go– She was going to Rigel IV."

"Why?" He suspects it has something to do with practicing her art, and judging by the carpet and other examples of her work, he expects she'd have been successful. She'd certainly have been rather unique. In his travels he's never met a Risian other than on Risa.

"Daniy _hated_ Risa."

"Hated Risa?" Riker echoes. Of all the emotions he's ever heard of in connection with this planet or its people, hate has never been one of them. "Why did she hate Risa?"

Kitaal looks up at him and Riker can see a touch of Edaniya's emotion as well as Kitaal's grief in those lime green eyes. Her control, tenuous as it was, is cracking, about to shatter. "Because for Daniy there is no more horrible world in all the galaxy! _Qo'noS_ would be _paradise_ by comparison."

x

Overcome by emotion, she bursts away, skirts the couch without touching the carpet, but before she reaches the three steps leading up to the curtain framed door, she slams to a halt. She whispers something sharply, a word the Universal Translators in their communicators do not render, and she whirls on the four, fury incredible for a Risian in her demand. "_Where_ is it?"

"Where is what?" Riker asks but shock, grief and rage have full vent. It's stunning, the first open fury they've ever seen in a Risian.

She stabs the air with her finger, pointing to the two pegs extending 15 centimeters from the right wall at the foot of the steps. "Where _Is_ It? Did You _Take_ It?" Red faced, she advances on the much larger Commander, rage evening the odds. "Give it _back_!"

Riker has nothing to fear from the girl. She doesn't come as high as his neck and has probably never raised a hand in anger in her life, but he doesn't want to have to defend himself against the girl. While he could do so without harming her their rapport, tenuous though it was, would be destroyed.

Besides, this is not anger, this is berserk rage that would make her take him on, caution thrown away with reason.

"Give it _BACK_!" she grates, halfway upon him.

Abby steps between them, intercepting the raging girl, praying this won't come to blows. She's not as big as nor built like the Commander. "Give what back?" she asks, counting on the connection they've established so far to get past the anger. "What's missing?"

Sheun's an instant from resolving grief with extreme violence upon someone closer to her size and her scream is frightening. "_GIVE IT BACK_!"

x

Hands up, trying to look more pleading than ready to subdue their raging witness, Abby appeals "Kitaal, on my life I swear to you we know nothing of this. The picture we were sent days ago showed nothing there."

While Kitaal hovers between ingrained Risian hospitality and her passion to recover her friend's cherished property, DiNozzo holds up his hand to pull her attention and halt her for - hopefully - long enough to prove Abby's claim. He pulls from the band at his left hip his quarter size PADD, activates it and pages with his finger through multiple images before he settles on the Crime Scene holo-image. He enlarges the three dimensional image until it centers on the door and pegs so Kitaal need not see her friend's dead body on the rug she'd made. He hands the mini PADD to her. "That's more than a week old."

Kitaal looks like he'd struck her and her voice is stolen, only a whisper forced. "Gisphaltinseersenstruka..."

"Kitaal," Abby says as softly, half allowing herself to wonder what was so obscene that the UT refused to render it either, "what should be there? What's missing?"

She looks up at them, grief at war with fury, a battle she can only lose. Her voice warbles as she loses. "Daniy's Prayer Stole."

She fights tears that are the worst battle thus far, and Abby understands her sense of loss, if not the depth.

Something tremendously cherished is gone, but for the Investigators the other sense of loss is just as significant. Whatever this item was, it's been gone since before the body was holo-imaged, but was it missing from the same hour when Edaniya was stabbed?

x

Abby cautiously takes her arm, trying her best to seem solicitous and, when not shaken off, guides her to the chair in the reading alcove, helps her down and then kneels on one knee, looking upward slightly into those lime eyes. "Tell us."

Kitaal looks up, her voice choked to a whisper. "Can you find it? Get it back?"

Abby looks back to the Deputy Chief Investigator long enough to be sure nothing has been missed. She turns back, looking deeply into Kitaal's limpid moist eyes. "I promise you we're going to try."

Sheun can't hold her eyes. Several times she'd been on the edge of breaking; this devastation only weakens whatever little is left of her fragile control. "Daniy used it when she prayed," she whispers, staring at her knees, tears trickling down her cheeks despite the force of her resistance. "She prayed a lot, prayed for forgiveness."

Abby tries for her kindest whisper. It's not hard. "Forgiveness for what?"

"For being Risian." She covers her eyes with her hand, shaking in her silent weeping and Abby takes that moment to look back, seeking wisdom from her companions.

She doesn't get any.

"Kitaal," she tries after a few seconds, "I don't understand."

x

It's a long time before the young woman can lower her hand. She's fought back the tears but when she can look up to Abby they still glisten in her eyes. "Daniy _hated_ Risa. She hated _being_ Risian. Millions are fine with it, she wasn't. That's why she was leaving. To her there was nothing in the cosmos more terrible than being a Risian on Risa."

"Why?"

Kitaal scrubs the tears from her eyes, leans forward and takes Abby by the arm, looks deeply into her eyes. "You like Risa?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so. I never really gave it much thought."

"'All that is ours is yours'?"

"Well, I guess..."

She leans closer, eyes to eyes, voice intense. "Is all _you_ have everyone else's?"

x

Abby draws back a centimeter before she can stop herself and restores her solicitous position, perhaps millimeters closer, still on one knee, but even in the tropical morning's heat a cold wave flows through her bloodstream.

"Risa is a poor planet, the poorest in all space," Kitaal says as though the strangers should know it. "We have nothing. Literally _nothing_. Decades ago, so many I've never counted, our leaders hit on a barter system: Hospitality. We'd open our planet to everyone. We'd trade our one and only resource for survival. We'd trade _ourselves_."

Abby looks back to the men - and android - and for the first time there's a thought about Risa that's not particularly pleasant.

"Hospitality isn't bad," Kitaal says, pulling her back. "It's when aliens decided hospitality also meant opening up _ourselves_ in barter that for some..." She catches the look in their eyes and almost mollifies her words, but then she doesn't back down.

"I never objected to this life. I enjoy it. Not everyone who comes here carries hospitality so far. Too far. They seek companionship, conversation, relaxation, food and drink, maybe just an ear.

"But when it came to Jamaharon Daniy, she couldn't _stand_ it when men touched her. And month by month, year by year, it became more and more intolerable." She leans back in the comfortable chair, closes her eyes. She'd been through grief, fury, loss and now, exhausted, she tries to explain the obvious to strangers.

x

"When we provide hospitality it's one thing, but if guests want more, when they want Jamaharon, the word 'reluctant' does not exist, the word 'no' does not exist." She opens her eyes, leans close to Abby, says intently "Can you imagine enthusiastically bringing Jamaharon to a Tellarite, a Chalnoth and a Nausicaan in the same afternoon?"

That cold river running along Abby's veins becomes a glacier. "Horrible," she whispers, and when she looks to DiNozzo and Riker she sees they're equally affected. Data looks on, but she doesn't look for feeling, or even realization there.

Kitaal looks beyond her to the men. "You've each been to Risa before this." Riker and DiNozzo nod, each reluctantly, each able to predict what she'll say next. "When you've been helped to find Jamaharon, did you ever give a thought to your Guide?"


	11. Blind Bliss

Chapter Eleven  
>Blind Bliss<p>

Picard materializes with the blue uniformed Michelle Palmer, whom in her capacity as an Exo-Jurisprudence Specialist he had invited on this Away Mission, and Chief Investigator Gibbs, whom he had not.

The Planetary Councilors stand before them, arrayed in their robes of office, in the huge atrium bordered by several buildings which they've come to think of as the reception area. Though the additions to this meeting had been arranged and approved, he can see the depth of disapproval on the men's faces. Gibbs, as Chief Investigator, cannot be removed but he's particular in establishing, through her credentials, that the petite Asian woman will not be asked to leave.

"And why is this man here?" Hamaryu Pragakar asks. His tone is not quite as Klingonish as it had been yesterday, maybe he is mollified or at least feels less confrontational today, but Picard will not lower his guard. A confrontational Risian is a contradiction in terms, but he recalls nothing of yesterday's progress that is likely to signal a significant change.

Mazarian razor backs may seem agreeable and will even allow themselves to be petted, but they are riled without warning and the unwary man risks loss of a limb if he's exceptionally lucky.

"Chief Investigator Gibbs," he reintroduces himself in case the man has forgotten him and a week of negotiations.

"I know who you are."

"Then you know why I'm here," he says without the frigid smile his tone implies.

"Let us return to the Conference Chamber," Varekh Sumnar says, more to his compatriots than to his guests.

Picard is pleased that the First Councilor has derailed the initial tension, for now.

There are, as before, two great concerns to be addressed concurrently: Risa's place in the Federation and the murder of Edaniya Kelbron. At the last session Makyao Kelbron's concern had been his granddaughter so Picard's is to focus upon that issue first.

xx

The trip to the Conference Room is short, merely into a building, through a large foyer and down a long corridor well appointed with flowers and free growing plants and through an unassuming door framed, as most are, with curtains split in the middle and held spread by pairs of thicker gold cords.

In the small room, the door of which slides shut as they pass, real plants in the four corners yield primacy to walls of blue and white over green. The panoramic painting depicts a meadow while a multiplicity of colors display a vast variety of flowering plants under a cloud dappled sky. There's enough detail to the four walls that individual petals and grass blades can be determined, exquisitely rendered. The high clouds almost show each individual wisp of moisture.

The table set in the center of the room is significantly larger than yesterday's and there are six chairs, three to each long side reflecting the arrangements settled prior to beam down, which the Federation Officers find quite interesting in light of the encounter outside.

When the six are seated, the Councilors arrayed Two, One and Three on one side of the table, Gibbs, Picard and Palmer opposite them - Gibbs having chosen to face the least hospitable planetary leader - Picard turns his attention to Third Councilor Kelbron.

"I want to assure you, Councilor, that the investigation into your granddaughter's death is proceeding and I am confident we will soon have the answers we seek."

"I am not confident that we seek the same answers, Captain."

"On the contrary, Councilor," Picard says, well aware he is taking a significant risk in introducing a conflict this early in the negotiations, "we all seek the identity of the young lady's killer, whomever that may be."

"And if it should be a member of your crew?"

"Then that person will be dealt with accordingly." He's well aware he's repeating himself from yesterday's negotiation, so he's not surprised to get yesterday's answer.

"That's what we don't believe."

x

"Gentlemen," First Councilor Sumnar says, then glances to his left to Palmer seated opposite Kelbron, "Madam. I suggest we hear the specifics of the investigation's progress."

Gibbs, being on firm ground here, details what has been determined from the autopsy, the samples of human sperm taken from the body and the order of precedence that has established, as well as the fact that the only Enterprise crewman to have an encounter with her had been interviewed and confirmed he'd been with her in his own rooms fifteen hours before her death. He's particular to make clear that the unnamed man had not been the last person Edaniya had dealt with. He also leaves out Abby's discovery from last night of the fibers embedded in Edaniya's dress and the fact that she and DiNozzo, Riker and Data are now back at the young woman's home.

Picard has already discussed with Gibbs his Gamma Shift conversation with Agent Cassidy, and they're in agreement that this should also not be revealed to the Council. Centering as it did on a human's ability to predict what another human is likely or unlikely to do, it would be of limited value in their talks with the Risians. It partakes too much of the principle of 'can't prove a negative' and to the Risians would be too easily countered, as these people had decided last week who was guilty.

Their investigation is going to have to prove that negative.

x

"One thing we don't know," Gibbs concludes, "is 'who found the body?'"

"Why is that important?" Makyao Kelbron asks.

"We need to talk to him or her."

"Why? You have the holograph and the doctor's report."

"Not enough. Who found her?"

"I did," Kelbron says.

Gibbs hides his surprise at the admission. He also doesn't trust it. "Why were you there?" Kelbron's home is 31 kilometers away, but they already know the man had been in Cintara on that day for Council business. At least that was the story earlier. Now they want to know if this story is unchanged, and why the old man was at his granddaughter's home a half hour before midnight.

"She was my granddaughter. I need no reason to visit her."

"When you first saw her, was she laying as in the picture, on her back with her arms down by her sides?"

"Exactly as she was in the picture."

"Thank you. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing."

"Now think back. What time did you get to her home?"

"About 2000 by your Federation clocks."

"Were you expected?"

"What difference does that make?"

"Just trying to get a sense of where everyone was when."

"I don't know whether I was expected or not. I often visit when I come into Cintara."

"You make your home in Gotram, I understand."

"Yes."

"Thirty one kilometers. How do you travel? I don't know of that many roads around here."

"I use the public transporter."

"Did you that day?"

"To see Edaniya? No. I was already in Cintara."

"And what did you two talk about?"

"We didn't talk about anything," he says, very annoyed. "She was dead when I got there."

"Oh, yes, that's right." He'd hoped to catch the man in a second inconsistency, even if equally minor. It was an awkward one, but he doesn't mind.

x

"Did you move her body?"

"What?"

"Her body, Councilor. Did you move it?"

"I did not."

"What condition was her body in when you found it?"

"What do you mean 'what condition'?"

"How was she laying?"

"Exactly as she was in the picture we sent you."

"You reported her death?"

"Of course I did."

"To whom?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Risa is a Tourist Facility. It has no Police Force to speak of. To whom did you report?"

"To the proper authorities."

In Gibbs' experience, that phrase has never mean anything and this time is no improvement. "The information SCIS received when we first heard of your granddaughter's death doesn't mention any Security Force, Police or otherwise. In fact, it mentioned nothing, not even who found the body. Beyond you three, what constitutes 'Proper Authorities?"

x

"Chief," First Councilor Varekh Sumnar cuts in, "Risa does not have a formal Police or Security Force, but we do have people who serve as Facilitators. They are the closest we have to such an organized authority."

"Then I need to speak to whoever took the report."

"That is not necessary," Kelbron says. "I am giving you all the information you need to prove that an Enterprise crewman murdered my granddaughter."

"I'm sure you are. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why murder?" When he sees the question hasn't registered he explains more bluntly. "Murder is a deeply personal thing. Only someone with a reason would do it and thus far we've found no one. Only 1,212 people out of 1,681 aboard Enterprise have ever been to Risa before two weeks ago. Of those, only 413 people have been here to Cintara more than once but of those the interval between visits was three years and more.

"Once beamed down, those 413 people spread quite widely through the area, some visited the Shinvar hills, some spent most of their time by the beach, others scattered far more widely as their interests led them, up to 50 kilometers from where they beamed down. Of the total of 96 people who remained within a kilometer of Cintara, only 3 people spent any time within a half kilometer of where your granddaughter lived, but it was _their_ first time in Cintara.

"The duration of Shore Leaves were 32 hours for more than 87% of the crew and this includes sleep. I seriously doubt that someone, in so short a time, could have a conflict with your granddaughter serious enough that murder would be the only method of resolution."

"Listen," Makyao Kelbron cuts in angrily, "you were brought here to find out who aboard Enterprise murdered Edaniya!"

"No, sir. We were sent by the Federation Council to identify and, if possible, apprehend the murderer of Edaniya Kelbron."

"But you've just claimed no one could do it!"

"No, what I said was that we can find no one on Enterprise who has a reason to kill her."

"Then you're looking for someone who kills without reason!"

When Gibbs doesn't answer, looking at the men as though they should be able to work out the very obvious on their own without hand holding, Pragakar turns on Sumnar. "We're wasting our time with these people! I move that we expel Enterprise from orbit and proceed with the vote on seceding from this _Federation."_

"I second the motion," Kelbron declares.

Left with this single option, Sumnar turns to Picard. "If you will excuse us, Captain, we shall inform you of the Counsel's decision."

"Of course, First Councilor."

xx

When the trio reaches the atrium, Gibbs turns to Picard. "They're not going to pull out."

"No, that's obvious. They're playing for something. But they're taking their own time getting around to it."

"They're not seeing the possibility that someone else would have a motive," the Chief Investigator says. "Are they blind to any other possibility, or are they locked onto Enterprise?"

"I don't think it's either."

xxx

When Kitaal Sheun asked Deputy Chief Investigator DiNozzo and himself that probing question 'When you've been helped to find Jamaharon, did you ever give a thought to your Guide?', William Riker felt the full effect of a very unpleasant realization together with the sharp sting of guilt.

Not only had he not recognized the feelings that might be raised by immersion into the Risian culture of service and dependence but he's never given the matter even a first thought. Everyone knows the prevalent attitude of Risa; service, hedonistic pleasure, fulfillment of the senses, the creation and enthusiastic search for Jamaharon, and it had absolutely never occurred to him that there were Risians who didn't want to find it.

If a man can be mentally blind, he had certainly succumbed to it. He'd fallen - thoroughly - into the Risian mold and ethos, and Kitaal's point is absolutely true. In many searches for Jamaharon over the years, always with those he'd believed were very willing and enthusiastic women, he had never thought any of his guides didn't relish the search as much as they'd seemed to.

He's always prided himself that in every encounter he's had with a woman, that woman had been a willing and equal participant in the event. Now, at least with Risians, he realizes he's taken the image for the reality, and he's been hit with the prospect that some of the women he'd known might not have, despite their words and actions, been enthusiastic partners.

Certainly, Edaniya Kelbron, whom he'd never met, had not been.

Guilt stabs him as he's forced to recognize that others, bound by the expectations and obligations of their culture, might not have been either.

By extension, he's forced to wonder how many Risian men have brought women guests to that long sought goal against their wills.

x

When he looks to DiNozzo, he finds his own doubts reflected in that man's eyes. He decides he will never again visit Risa without being very certain of his welcome. This is a blissful world, but his days of relaxing in blind bliss are over.

"Kitaal," he says, trying to force the second guessing back; he's still investigating a murder, "what does this have to do with Edaniya Kelbron's Prayer Stole?"

"She wore it when she prayed. She told me that sometimes she felt so badly that the moment she came home she'd put it on."

"Would you describe it?" DiNozzo asks. There have been no obvious indications of Risian deity beliefs that he has ever seen. In fact, the sole cultural icon having any distinction that is seen by guests is the Horga'hn. It's becoming very clear there is much behind the plants and flowers of Risa.

"It was castanian blue, and she made it of the softest Anyankan silk. The symbols were in etanian blue, so only by being close could they be seen. Looking down when she wore it she could see them; looking straight on you need the right light at the right angles. It hung down the front of her body, draped from behind her neck down to about here," she places her fingers down at mid thigh.

Abby had already established she'd been wearing it when she died, that it had been forcibly pulled from behind her neck while she lay upon the floor. Where is it now?

x

"Did she wear it often?"

"A lot. It belonged by the door if she wasn't wearing it," she points to the horizontal pegs, "but it needed two pegs because it's so soft that even rubbing against itself in the odd breeze would eventually wear it down."

"How about with anyone else? When she had a visitor?"

"Absolutely not. She might be wearing it when I came over, but she'd take it off immediately. You can't pray with company here, but she would never wear it when an alien was here. _They're_ the reason for her needing to repent."

"Could you tell us who she might wear it around?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Who might she wear it around?"

x

Kitaal considers, finally admits "No one I know of. She took it off when I visited if she was wearing it - but I can't think of a single person she would wear it while they were here."

"We know she had it around her neck while her killer was here," DiNozzo tells her.

"Ridiculous!"

He looks to Abby. "Kitaal," she says, "I found fibers in her dress at the back of her neck, and more fibers in the rug where she was laying."

"That's _impossible_!"

"Why is it impossible?" Abby asks, unfazed by the retort, though she tries to tread carefully. Kitaal hasn't recovered from grief or outrage, they've just been pushed down by the change in subject.

"Because she wouldn't have been wearing it when an alien was here and an alien from Enterprise murdered her."

x

"I believe you," she says to retain their peace, seeing that Kitaal implicitly believes it. "Can you tell us anything more?"

For a few moments the only sound in the room is the melody of the birds outside. "Like what?" she finally asks, as much in surrender.

"When Edaniya was found she had a single stab wound," she indicates the spot on her own torso, where the woman's heart would be centered. "But she was laying flat on her back, her arms and hands by her sides and I guarantee you she didn't fall that way."

"Who says she fell anywhere? She was on her bed maybe?"

"She was out here, on the floor in front of her couch." When Kitaal looks at her very dubiously, Abby reaches out and receives DiNozzo's mini-PADD. The image is the last one called up, she shrinks it to it's original detail of the living room.

x

Kitaal gasps, feels the knife of grief impale her own heart to see Daniy laid out as the blue uniformed alien described. She doesn't want to believe the image, tries as hard as she can to reject it as a convenient for the aliens' lie, but finally she must accept the image as Daniy's final reality.

The knife twists in her heart as she imagines what Daniy had to have felt and she can't contain the sob that breaks through the last of her control. She shoves the PADD back into the woman's hand and fights with all her might but tears slip through her clenched eyes.

She fights harder, the tears batter her and the knife Daniy felt twists in her heart. She hides her face in her hands but her hands can't push the tears back in. She holds her breath and sobs fight, over and over, to break through.

They win.

x

Kitaal weeps, agonized grief ripping her apart and she can no longer fight, wailing into her hands, but when tears are not enough to purge her soul of the agony she screams. Her screams, as much the pain Daniy must have felt in hrr final moment as her own agony, rip her throat and she can't stop.

She feels she's soaking her hands with tears that must be flooding the chair. The screams torn from her only help a little, too little. She'd retreated home to escape grief, fought it so violently when not alone and she was too rarely alone. Now it tears at her, tries to destroy her.

She can't think of the aliens about her, can't think of control, can't think of anything but Daniy as the knives compete in her heart for which can hurt her the worst.

Every image of Daniy that slams into her mind brings its own stab to her heart, perhaps the exact pain Daniy had felt before she died. A new dam bursts to release a torrent of tears, a new explosion of grief devastates her body and rends her mind to bleeding fragments.

She doesn't know how long it takes and can't care. She only knows she cries forever; that she will cry forever, and yet gradually she runs out and doesn't have the strength to cry anymore.

Finally, utterly spent, she hovers on the edge of more tears that won't come and exhaustion. She falls back into the chair, eyes closed into the blackness she'll see forever and she knows she'll never, ever be happy again.

x

"Kitaal?" the woman's voice calls and she forces her burning eyes open. Yes, they're still there. It should be Daniy standing there, chiding her over her grief. The last week shouldn't have even happened. Daniy should be there, telling her something like the release she has isn't as good as Rigel IV would have been but she shouldn't weep so over her.

But it's not Daniy, it's that blue uniformed Feredationist alien and Kitaal knows this reality, not the one with Daniy alive in it, is the one she's condemned to spend the next sixty years in.

Why is this alien still here? A Risian would've known to leave her alone - but these are aliens.

"I'm really sorry."

She tries to say it aloud, but screams have ripped her throat and even so she doesn't have the strength to do more than to admit that "You have more questions."

"I'm sorry, yes."

She reaches out, feeling too weak for a four to one fight, and the woman pulls her up until she's sitting forward, balanced with hands on her knees. She tries to fight a new wave of grief, of tears that if they come this time will never stop. "Yes, okay, ask your questions so you can leave me alone."

x

"In our experience," Abby continues, wishing she could give charge of this to DiNozzo but Sheun trusts her - at least to this moment, "someone who would lay out a body in this manner is someone who feels something for Edaniya. Can you think of someone that might be?" She knows that's an excess of someones, but to this point they have no proof that they're hunting a man or a woman. Left in charge, she can only be guided by Gibbs' Rules, and the one she hears in his voice in her mind now is #71: 'Never guide a witness.'

"Someone who hates Daniy enough to kill her and loves her enough to do this?" She shakes her head. "There can't be any such person."

"Is there anyone she was particularly close to?" DiNozzo asks. Kitaal turns a blank stare to him. "A good friend? A confidant?"

"Me."

She's willing to give Sheun the benefit of the doubt. She's known people who have killed the one they love and were sorry for it later, but she's never met anyone who has been this thoroughly shattered by it. "What about a boyfriend? A lover?" That's usually a fertile field for suspects.

Kitaal shakes her head. "No boyfriend." Anger suddenly replaces grief in her lime green eyes. "You're insane. Insane! That's not _possible_!"

And looking at her, the Officers and Agents know they'll get no further. In their galactic view, and particularly for the agents who have encountered virtually every flavor of killer, this is a very real and frequently encountered scenario. For Kitaal, with her Risian worldview of non-violence and hospitable service, this is insane and impossible.

x

"All right, I'm not implying it happened," DiNozzo assures her, trying to recover lost ground, "but is there anyone she is close to?"

"_No one_ she was close to could do this!"

"We're not saying someone killed her and moved her body," Riker says with as much assurance as he can muster, "but could there be someone who _found_ her body and re-positioned it? Out of respect?"

Kitaal considers, shakes her head. "No. I can't think of anyone. But I want you to _leave_ now."

"We c–"

"Of course we will," DiNozzo cuts Riker off. "Thank you for your cooperation."

x

It feels like another mini-forever - how many more must she endure in her life before it starts to make sense again? - but she finally manages to force the words out. "You're welcome."

He touches the eagle and star sigil badge on his chest, a brief chirrup coming from the emblem. "DiNozzo to Enterprise, stand by. Four to beam up."

/Standing by./

Kitaal is surprised by their quick agreement and her victory, and in that moment she turns to Abby, her sole almost-friend among the aliens. "But you lied to me," she accuses.

"When?"

"You said if I didn't help you, you could never go home again."

"Oh. No, I didn't lie. I'm considered the best Forensic Scientist in the quadrant. If I blew this Investigation, I could never show my face again."

Before she can work out an answer to that outrageous declaration, Riker touches his own communicator. "Transporter Room: Energize."

xxx

When the four materialize in Transporter Room Two Riker turns on DiNozzo. "Why did you pull out?"

"Because this is the first real witness we have and I want to keep her on our side. We could've strong-armed her, but if she's confident she has at least some measure of control over the interviews, she'll be more willing to talk to us when we go back."

"Makes sense," he admits, grateful he doesn't have to live the life of an Criminal Investigator.

"Meantime, we've got a lot of evidence to compile, and then one hell of a campfire."

When he departs, and Abby is obliged to follow him, Riker turns to Data but decides not to inquire about that strange reference.


End file.
